Wednesday, April 23, 2008

Rest

For the first time in a along time I am coming upon the precipice of peace. It’s horizon is rising to me, as my world bows before it.

And that is how it happens. We think it rises, but it comes with our bowing.

There are tears at the basin of my soul. Tears so weighed down they have no spring to purge them. But at least, at last, I begin to rest.

Stillness used to hold me. My blanket, my covering, my child-like hiding. But life turned to fire and all comfort was consumed in its fury.

"All is well with my soul," is the statement of my holding, halting, letting go. But after years of constant churning, it is a feeling almost of sea-sickness. It is a good withdrawal from the world and that self.

So in stillness I sit. In peace I am found. In resting I am whole.