There are days when I wonder if I will always live like this. . .with my trust shattered & my heart bleeding. Some days I feel hope glimmer on the surface of the world around me. . .& other days all I see is the clouds raining down upon my broken earth. I realize some probably think I am insane for even fighting. . .maybe I really am doomed from the start. . .maybe all these battles are like Manassas. ..they seem important at the time but in the end. . .the win really means nothing. Just more carnage & loss. . .
Every day I wake up. ..& I realize it's my choice. I can either hold tight to the past with broken fists or I can open wide my hands & start anew. I can chose to continue to breathe in the stagnant stale air of crippled promises or I can open up my lungs to something new. To hope.
I've lived with the aftermath for so long sometimes it's hard to believe in something new. . .to believe maybe this emptiness is just a season & one day the dawn will crack the sky with fragile fingers & hope will rise. I got to believe we can be more than this rubble. . .we can be more than a painting in shades of gray. . .we can be light & beauty & grace.
Grace. Such a beautiful word. I long for shades of grace to set me. . .us. . .free. To break the chains of what we know now to be . .so much more.
the line of my earth so brittle, unfertile & ready to dry. I need a drink but the well has gone dry & we are in the habit of saying the same things all over again. . .i just don't feel it anymore" Sixpence None the Richer
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