The Brittle Path

We breathe through this forest of stillness, pressing upon the brittle path of yesterday’s shattered dreams. We breathe until the echoes of loss have been crushed into a soft gravel of silence. This changing season has seized our expectations, and scattered them into the great unknown, leaving us breathless in between.

We wait inside this fragile interlude of time, until we’re able to move freely among the remains of all that was. We wait until courage flows like a river of promise, calling us to step out onto that shimmering surface of faith, where wisdom awaits.

Then one day after all our pacing, we look out the window and notice that the day’s light has stretched beyond the day before. This subtle shift of light lifts us into a stride of determination, flattening the edges of what used to provoke us. We remember how far we’ve traveled together through this unfamiliar season; and how we too have been stretched beyond the familiar, into new perspectives and new ways of being.

We’ve learned the art of living, to breathe through the stillness, to wait inside time, and to share a commitment to something greater. There’s no turning back to gather what was lost, or to quarrel in the mud of our beliefs, we must keep pressing on, until the brittle path has turned to sand.