I think life asks a lot from us. More from some than others. I think we’re strong enough, brave enough, even if we don’t know it yet.
I think that when we become used to letting go, all that remains will just flow. But their will all always be hardship, and that’s ok. It’s the obstacles, the uneasiness, the pain that will make us grow.
We don’t need a way out, but a space within. To plant our feet, to place our wings. To hold on, but just lightly. To know that we’re being held, even without arms around us.
The wind whispers, ‘it’s going to be alright’. Life holds me like the stars holds its stars. Strangers bring me their light, smiles like golden hours. They fill me up and carry me.
But when I allow myself to be completely alone, I feel an emptiness. The scars deep inside, I can feel every inch of them. I taste the blood inside my tears. And their is no one to carry me, to hold me. I wonder is it because I don’t need anyone? Or is it because I have been forgotten about?
But maybe it is meant to happen, when I’m grey and old. When I have exhausted every strength, lived every ‘me’ time to its fullness. And the wind will whisper to me, ‘he has arrived.’