We do not follow a ghost,
nor build our faith on fading ink.
We believe in the impossible,
in the thunderstrike of dawn
when death was made a liar.

Yes, we believe He died.
Not softly, not symbolically,
but actually crushed beneath the weight of our shame,
His limbs went slack, and we gave Him silence in His chest,
the sky went black with sorrow.

And then,
He stood again.

Not as memory, nor as myth,
but as flesh reborn with fire in His veins,
as wounds that glowed with glory,
as the breath of God
walking barefoot through the garden
on the other side of the grave.

We believe in that.
That bones shattered were mended,
that the tomb lost its grip,
that despair was pierced by morning light.

And not if, but because He walked out of that grave,
nothing is too broken to be restored,
no night too dark for dawn to find,
no sinner too lost to be called by name.

This is the anthem of our souls:
The grave is empty.
Love has conquered.
And He is alive.

And in that truth,
our hearts find rest.
The world may shake,
but we will not be moved.
For what fear survives
when even death has bowed?
What storm can steal the peace
of those who know the stone was rolled?

He is alive!
And so we are unshaken.
So we are free.
And in Him; we are Home.

I am a man standing at the edge of himself,
watching the tide of my life shift,
pulling me toward something greater,
something heavier, something holy.

In one week, I will no longer be just me.
I will be a father.
And though I have known love,
though I have given and received,
this love will be different,
not chosen, but written into my blood.

I have carried a thousand fears,
worn them like armor,
but nothing prepares a man
for the moment his name changes to Daddy.
Nothing readies his hands
for the weight of something so small,
yet powerful enough to redefine him.

She is not here yet,
but already, she moves inside a world
I cannot see.
And I wonder,
when she takes her first breath,
will she take a piece of mine?
And I know I will never breathe the same again,
knowing my heart now beats
in another chest.

Let hope still burn, though faint its flickering light,
A fragile ember cradled in the cold,
Its warmth the only shield against the night.

The year has worn us thin, within its cruel bite
Etched deep, where dreams once dared to take their hold.
Let hope still burn, though faint its flickering light.

We pray, though fear meets our cries outright,
For answers lost in shadows, distant and old.
Its warmth the only shield against the night.

What strength can bind a heart still gripped by fright,
When broken faith no longer feels consoled?
Let hope still burn, though faint its flickering light.

For even now, amidst life’s bitter fight,
The smallest spark can make the dark unfold,
Its warmth the only shield against the night.

O fragile flame, in this next year, withstand this endless plight,
Be guide and grace as new days yet unfold.
Let hope still burn, though faint its flickering light,
Its warmth the only shield against the night.

What name can bind the boundless heart I bear,
What words can shape the weight of all I’d do?
A love so fierce, it humbles earth and air,
Yet whispers soft as morning’s tender dew.

Should raging seas conspire to drag you deep,
I’d part the waves with hands both scarred and worn;
Through fire’s breath or shadowed canyon steep,
I’d face the fates for which I was not born.

This love is not a fragile, fleeting thread;
It burns within, eternal as the sun.
Not even death could sever what is bred,
A bond cemented before your life begun.

For love’s great truth, its brightest, fiercest flame:
To bear her pain, I’d give my very name.

Beneath the velvet dome of midnight skies,
Where constellations carve eternal scrolls,
I lift my heart, laid bare before their eyes,
And pledge my very essence to her soul.

Her breath, a whisper soft as morning dew,
Her weight, a universe within my hands.
This fragile life, both infinite and new,
Demands a love no mortal understands.

To the stars, I vow—no force shall break this chain,
No storm shall rise that I will not defy.
Through fire’s wrath, and the oceans' domain,
For her, I’d face death and gladly die.

O heavens, witness what it means to be:
Her guardian, her strength, eternally.