Only the blind will see


There always was a way to make sure everything was figured out, in its place, all ready for testing and living out the harder days discovered by the clocks that tick by forces unstoppable

Unbreakable, never quiet, yet the beat they work to slips by as vapor, leaving the crowds to believe they had been fooled by the life quaking right before them,

We forget that the past is written, the future blank, and the present days are scribbles making their messy way onto linéd page,

We dismiss that hands cannot mold the things created. We try to shape hearts to meet eye level for the me, me, me when they were meant to soar o’er watered stars,

I have memories strong and weak. I remember. I remember when that life took off so much faster than feet could work and mouth could speak or brain could know the wrong or right,

Intuition was that guide, and if I took the time to listen closely I would hear the voice of stay or go, sleep or live, try and try some more even if the trying means you weep

I can see now that the weeping was for greater things, higher ways, to balance out the sunshine with precipitation that purged the wounds and fed the weary soul,

I can see why along came the no, the stop sign, the ever present halt and why I had to be so broken just to lay on the ground and see the fire high above me drawing me to follow

In another way. I could only see His face. I can feel that fire leading now to step forward with a new plan–one I couldn’t think to write for myself in a room with pens and papers,

This one is better. The door is wide open and now I feel the hand of God holding mine to walk right through smiling,

Ready. Ready to step across a bridge transparent knowing I live not by eyes that see, but ears that listen for a single voice.


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