The bitter path stretching before you is broken.
You stumble, unable to see beyond the next step, while rain falls on the road you've already walked.
Yet the view through the storm is so clear, so much easier to look back upon.
And what you see brings despair; the mistakes, the failures, the sins you've committed glare back, accusing and calling for attention, and you lose hope in the face of those transgressions.
Yet again, you are a ship at sea; the black tides ebb and flow, rage and shift beneath you.
You take the wheel and the waves confuse the course, losing you in the swirl.
But you are not the navigator.
Stop trying to steer.
Release the wheel and face the horizon.
It's there before you, a narrow shaft of light piercing the fog; a still, small voice whispering through the crashing torrent.
It beckons the winds be silent; it commands the seas to calm.
It says, Come, child, trust me.
You finally hear, but you cannot fathom a hand willing and able to pull you from the pit.
And you say you can't; not after everything you've done.
You look back at the demons and dancers wearing your sins as ornaments while they parade them before you, agreeing with you.
The tears fill your eyes and they pour down your cheeks, etching white lines down your dirty face.
You fall to your knees, your head in your hands, your tears puddling around you, threatening to drown you.
You cry out into the void, I'm sorry, I'm sorry...I'm so sorry.
And that small voice says, I know.
A hand touches your shoulder, and when you peer up through your watering eyes, it opens and pleads for you to take hold.
But again you say you can't, and again He says, I know.
Whether by habit or guilt or shame or rote, you look behind once more, and what you see brings a greater rush of tears than ever before.
For the mistakes and the sins and the demons and the dancers have been washed away by a shedding of blood from a perfect lamb.
The hand gently lifts your chin, and you gaze into the eyes of a king who has knelt beside you, come down to where you are.
You try to speak, try to say you can't.
But He moves his finger to your trembling lips, and says,
I have always been.
I will always be.
I Am now.
I can.
