Let me peer through the gates, over the edge…
Let me mark the path’s stones that
lie on the way—
from one to another, to another again.
I see the soil in between
A seed, so small, yet a beacon
For what can be rather than what cannot.
Then, buried beneath to bear the fate of the eventual
roots visible and unseen, strength
and weakness.
Let me not trample the latter. May I
tend them carefully; let me not block
rays of light that will nourish to bring about a flourishing.
How strange is it that falling is necessary—
the falling of rain, the bowing beneath—
In reception. In surrender. Its time not dictated
by self, but by a greater
One unseen, but known.
Invisibility of sovereignty—
it does not change the fact that He exists and will
ordain graciously,
majestically,
tenderly.
Perhaps not now, or not soon, but
one day, this process will appear; its location will be marked
between the stepping stones visible.
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