Broken by Many, Woven by One

BROKEN BY MANY, WOVEN BY ONE.
The skies cried when I couldn't,
The ground felt what my heart had long buried. Words of grace, a hush in the dark I looked through a raindrop and found something quietly
alive. Like a garden left untended,
the rain came in rage not rhythm, Gushed through blood not to thin, but to thicken belief,
It didn't fix me, it just sat with me, "There's more to you than what you see, don't break or
creak"
Sometimes grace feels like being soaked not saved.
I did not ask who wrote the weather, I just sat and listened.
I bloomed from dust and doubt. Into cracks the world called waste,
And found new life in what was left for dead.
You carry a kind of faith
That smells like old rain on warm ground
Quiet, soaked, sure.
Could you be the one who comes like the rain?
Unexpected and undone. Broken by many but, woven by one,
The story still breathes, Only you trace where the thunder was echoed,
The one who dares forecast the rebound.