There is a tide inside of us, that whips and tosses all of our sanity until it is frothy and trapped in undercurrents of despair. I have felt this, the strength of the ocean. Recently I have found myself walking up to it and letting it chase me up the beach until the game grows old and I know longer have control over how much I am made to run.
And I thought, the cacophony of the ocean could never be silenced. And if it could, is there any joy in it? For when we are given silence, are we not holding our ear out to to the sky just waiting for a speck of sound?
But this, it is too loud. I do know the difference between a hymn and the sound of a broken string.
Through grace, through months of beatings by this body of water, I have sooner found that no matter where I stand, I am an island. That I am made for others to want to destroy but I reach deeper than my land shows, and there is hidden strength beneath the line of water.
And perhaps the waves come for me not because I am weak, but because I am that glorious land that has risen, risen above the sea.
Now, as I lay my head to sleep, the ocean cradles me in its fury until I am woven in its ways and we create a work of art that has an incandescence.
That incandescence is what will set you free.
No comments:
Post a Comment