The Decent into Possibility


I stand on the cliff edge called despair, looking to a sky requesting repair, gazing over circumstances stamped with lack, turning my passport to a page anticipating provision; I inch closer to the edge, and gaze down into a narrow space, revealing a cavern of possibility, and pray for the patience to began and complete my descent,  As I secure my climbing gear,  I hold my breath, I hear “on Belay” from above, reaching down, I search for footing, unaware of each step approaching, gripping the mountain, determined to reach the place shown to me, my feet my eyes, being used like a cane, searching for the next step, determined to guide me to the place that is now unseen by my eyes, blind to what’s below, eager for what’s ahead, I lower myself into possibility, trusting that the vision given was accurate, squeezing through the narrow path, feet flailing, searching for the next step, overcome with pain, my grip loosens, my body yields, eyes close, at peace with my personal efforts, the tension from the full weight of my body, cargo unite with gravity and tug, until I am pulled towards my end, halted by the tension in the line, that emerged once the slack was used, I now hang helpless in the air, lowered by the might of another, unseen to my eye, watching my every step, waiting for me to stumble or falter, supporting me as I am placed into my own Eden.