What grace is this?

When the deep trenches of fragile souls are exploited by the shallowest of creatures.

The light dims in nearsightedness, while the creatures grow larger.

Do these creatures have a name?

Or are the faceless only known by their depravity?

What grace is this?

That the mountain path is overgrown with entanglements of fear and of jealousy.

This fear is ever-plentiful, and the roots of the forestry remain malnourished.

Does this fear have a name?

Or does it only exist through its own precariousness?

What grace is this?

In which the barren desert is traveled by the most unlikely of companions.

A company of foe, equally digressing to the pinnacle of their own starvation.

Does this famine have a name?

Or is this death sustained by cyclical inevitability?

What grace is this?