Light-Blasted

Bide your time in the light places.
Soak it into your marrow.
You've had a harrowing time of it,
but now you're in good graces.

Believe that we didn't know,
It's too much to let slip away.
From the earth a shoot will grow,
and infuse itself with the day.

Drums, drums, drums on your skin.
What do you hear?
What do you seek?
The destruction of the weak,
the scourging of the self.

Bide your time in the light places.
Soak it into your bones.
You've had a blasted time of it,
but now you're headed home.