Rhythm In Rhyme

Elsewhere, in crevices unweathered
There's a box of hope stashed away
Awaiting the touch of your hand.
Open it.
In between your fingers, feathered
Light may shine, show you the way
Through 'ere hallway of darkness.
Face it.
Hold out your hand, receive,
Be whole in what you are to give
Never ask for it back, for you do have
What you give, always in your hand.

Looking for myself in empty places,
Broken paths I must uncover.
Yet the silence and the lack of faces
Yell the truth I need discover.
Trodden journeys nowhere, blind with dread,
Mirror perfectly my mind.
They show the wayward image, turned to shred,
And a blessed son behind.

The world we're given, we push away,
Desiring one made by hands with which we pray;
Hands not wounded by counted battles for control
For a say in who we are, our role, our soul.

Rhyming
Several spaces
Lyrical inspiration
No frustration
But memories
Memories

Any meaning?
Anyone?
Any certainty
Jump the gun
Sit still
Listen
Stop hearing
Listen
Stop seeing
Listen