I heard a story today about a boy. He moved through life in his own stride. He felt, and he knew. Someone spoke in his heart, and he felt the tremmors of change first. In his own moment, knew. The power of this knowledge burned in his heart, wounds no one could touch. And the earthquake hit.
Knowing what he knew, prepared him for the blow. But only in that one way. The strength he felt, wavered. Knowing doesn't always change the outcome. Alone he suffered his knowledge, alone he must stand. For everyone. But the stones beneath him began to crumble.
Maybe today he can say the words, and again walk through his life in his own stride. But his step is a little different, each one taken with a little more weight.
Sure it’s beautiful…