The Habit of Our Wounds.
There’s a pain that may, at times, descend upon us; one so great that it threatens to steal our very soul. And leaving in its wake the unmistakable habit of our wounds.
Do we fear the deafening silence of this passing storm? Or, do we fear the magnitude of our own humbled grace? The scattered litterings of lessons past now marking the once pristine shore.
Through the breaking clouds, a single patch of sun revealing the efforts of an unimpeded joy. Are we made bolder through such courtesy? Our essence – more profound?
Or, are we simply encouraged? These castings of self serving the confluence of ‘one’? And through their efficacy – ultimately, made whole.