The Gentle Decline

The Gentle Decline.

A poem

 

One step down, from the mountain of grace.

 

There is nothing to stop the world from swallowing you into its abyss.

 

Where no one will ever see you fall,

 

No one will ever see you crumble.

 

One false step and your feet will falter, next, your balance will be lost.

 

One wavering second, one hesitant glance.

 

The world will succumb,

 

The ground will quake.

 

My feet may tremble but I will not falter.

 

I will not halt.

 

I will not fall.

 

Not by my own strength, by which my life is insignificant,

 

But by the power of the One in whom I stand.

 

By the power of the One in whom holds claim over me,

 

In whose hands holds supreme the Heaven’s and all of Creation.

 

I step away from the death of one,

 

I step out of the skin that no longer fits me.

 

I step forth into the new.

 

Vulnerable, but protected.

 

Laid bare, wounded and naked, but healed, covered and hidden.

 

Broken, but whole.

 

Unashamed.

 

The Gentle Decline into Freedom.

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