Silently we go, understanding not what lies ahead, but knowing something is missing. Our pack? Our pony? But the daunting darkness reveals not the answer.
Stumbling, we cannot say where we are going, or even where we are. Time drags. Loud footsteps race up from behind and we are frozen with fear.
We wish for successful outcomes, for softer terrain and the smoothness of sidewalks, but none are to be found and outcomes are yet unknown.
There is no compass. No map. There is night. There is sleep. It's tempting to stay safe under the cover of pitched tents beside crackling fires, waiting for mornings that never come.
Yet, we know. Somehow we know this is our illusion. It is not real. It is deception.
Though the road be long and wearisome, we have but to move forward following the one who travels ahead. Making the burden that small bit lighter. To simply listen to his guiding call. That voice that soothes if only our souls hear.
© Rachelle
2003
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The Eternal Promise
The beauty of the beloved awaits in the charmed stillness and knowledge of his promise. For all it's disappointments and trials, hope shall not be dissolved. For it was sown by the spirit which breathed even before the lungs were shaped. As we move in this limited form, amidst the few grand things of earth, he ceaselessly provides us that taste of a mercy and a grace by which all tears will end and youth be restored and stretched in infinite circles.
The soul does beseech him, as surely as with clasped hands or tightened eye on bended knee. Though there is no need for such things. He has heard his children. The promise, still distant, is brought to our remembrance in visions and stirrings that, while unmeasured, are exacted according to all good purposes. Glimpses of splendor magnified a thousand times. We alone, who are his, will hear his assurance - the eternal promise.
© Rachelle
2008
