It's Never Nothing When You'Re Grateful Poem by Broken Shell

Not a single possession to call your own.
Disaster struck and stole away everything you took for granted.

You can almost smell the sickening stench of pride
from the sneers of those who judge.

Somehow it will be your fault though. Isn't it always?

After all, if you were Christ, you could just turn those damned stones
into bread couldn't you?

Those living stones that make a stone house a temple.

If the wind blows and breaks the house down,
it's just like breaking bread.

Hanging on every living word the fullness of time.

Right in the middle of eternity.

Then the house is built again.

There's nothing left, but you find a way to be grateful.

You have your gratitude and somehow a hope,
a hope that makes it's home in forever.

So it's never nothing when you have gratitude.