[I'll walk you up the stairway to heaven,]
"O my God, at the end of this day I thank you most heartily for all the graces I have received from you."
"We are blessed for all you have done Holy Father, and all you continue to do."
A small head bent down to face the floor, shakily whispered a prayer.
Silent droplets fell to the shattered tile; a small but desperate action beyond repair.
The knees in which held the child up were bruised, a terrifying, painful reminder.
The boy wished he could look beyond the clouds and trees, wanting to aim higher and higher.
The small church in which he kneeled in was destroyed, desolate.
The feeling of hope, an unfamiliar feeling he wished not to decimate.
His cries were no longer quiet, but instead loud and unforgiving.
He wished of leaving the church, with the thought of finally living.
The notion disappeared as soon as it developed, delicately placed back upon the abandoned shelf.
His frantic sobs were unheard from the rest of the world, his suffocating grief left with nobody but himself.
A shard of colored glass fell from the stained window he once used to gawk at,
and shattered right next to where the crying boy sat.
The walls started to rumble unpleasantly again,
as the frightening war raged on outside, man versus (weaker) man.
The building was collapsing, but his faith continued to grow strong,
and soon the boy started humming the chorus of a worship song.
"When the world has broken me down,
this love sets me free;"
"When the world has broken me down,
Your love sets me free."
