As if the crimson, emerald, and sapphire had run in their first wash
And had drowned themselves in pipes far distant from here
I would be alone with the white, the haze, the mist
Either that or the sharp outlines of shadows in my soul.
Without those vibrant hues to keep me company,
Images of abandonment closed in over my head
Faster than the snow was piling against my window.
My basement room was blocked from gentle beams of light
While the snow grew deeper than my thoughts.
Snow Master, Heaven Lord, where am I?
…Sunken, stranded, snowed in...
And then! drops of grace pouring down my windowpane
Becoming pools of water that fill my lonely eyes.
Melting walls, rainbow light, iceless sidewalks: the advent of your rain.
God has not rejected his people whom he foreknew.
So too at the present time there is a remnant, chosen by grace.
But if it is by grace, it is no longer on the basis of works;
otherwise grace would no longer be grace.
Romans 11:2, 5 - 6