The hall of Champions

I'm burning a candle, praying for you, 
hoping that I can repay something to you. 
I'm holding you tight in my thoughts and lifting you from this, 
and I wish that you could see the promise that is there for you, 
it's bound in love, and everyone's prayer for you. 
A light appears over your household. 
A dent in the sky of a million year old strength 
illuminating from the length of might 
that is keeping you together tonight.
An angel, one from the right hand seat of the lord,
raises his sword in honor so high,
and it has left a blue tattoo in the sky.
Let every tear that you cry empower you greater,
so that you can later see how you are the bloodline of something deeper and more profound
than the rest of us poor people who still put foot to ground.
In the hall of champions he is seated,
like old friends reunited, greeted,
and they celebrate his achievement,
but honor the bereavement.
They tell him that all that he has done will be given reward,
and just at that moment the angel hands him his sword
and says "fear not, my brother.
You are set apart from the others.
You went out protecting,
so this we're directing to those you left behind."
The angels of service have set out to find you.
They can not rewind and undo it,
but they will push you forward, and get you through it.
A great feast in the heavens sings out in tribute,
but among the celebration, a soldier in suit,
looks down upon the sky and raises high his bright sword
of mighty brilliance and blue,
it reaches out and joins the light below,
connected to you.