I can only be with gratitude. It is the way of my freedom. It is the path leading always to the doors open before me. I walk. I go there in the direction of life’s pointing that I arrive at the manifestation of intentions planted before time touched time. The soil ripe still. It has not changed inside the wait. It has only grown to know more fully the potency of itself, and the depths of the magic under-soil.
For now, I walk the way of the side where the sun beams. I feel the warmth against my skin and stare into the glare of light with squinted eyes. How brilliant its way. How majestic is God in the quiet echo of sound crashing against itself that the listener hears. I lean in to the point of falling only to again be lifted inside the arms of the Invisible. I am held. I am sustained. I am carried.