We made it through the desert
only to be drowned in a
hot tub.
We crossed the sky-wide tightrope
only to trip walking down the
sidewalk.
Avalanches and earthquakes hardly make us
flinch, yet moments as simple as a stinging
paper cut
break us down to fistfuls of tears.
The plain is wide open for this momentous
duel.
Only you don't show and I'm glued in
place as trees begin to grow, rooting themselves to my
feet.
Boulders settle into the place where you
should have stood and now I feel that I should
go.
But I can't for fear of crushing
the soft wild flowers dancing across the
earth.
And the age-old roots have chained
me down, vines becoming part of
me.
Here I stand on this no longer empty
field, but amidst a forest, no longer
alone.
For I am now
one of the
trees.
YOU ARE READING
Struggle and Strive
SpiritualPart 3 in the "Contemplative Compositions" series. This is where I put my every random thought that may or may not deserve to be emblazoned on your screen. (In this edition I will probably also post some prose/flashfiction from a blog I'm writing w...
