"But there can be peace,"
spoke the second, gently firm.
"It's a gift from God."

"Yes, I know you've lost,"
softly came the next reply.
"We have both lost much."

"How can you say that?"
screamed the first, tears loud, raging.
"You know what I've lost!"

"Prayer saved my life,"

said the second. "Cause God is real."

"He deeply loves you."

"Pray? What does that do?"
asked the first, irritated.
"What's praise ever done?"

"He saved your life. Twice."
replied the second, simply.
"And I'm here to pray."

"What do you mean, 'still',"
asked the first, with eyes glaring.
"What's He ever done?"

"He's always with you,"
said the second, "and has been."
"He's why you're still here."

"That explains your peace,"
said the first, standing, arms crossed.
"So, where is your God?"

"God's love gives meaning,"
said the second. "He gives hope."
"He's why I'm content."

"Life isn't fair, " said
the first, "Nothing seems to last."
"Why does it matter?"

Each new event wrote.
Lines and age appeared on face.
One friend's eyes were soft.

God carried them both
One saw joy, called it pain, loss
One saw through faith's eyes

Trials tore the two
Each chose their own distinct path
Neither saw success