grace alone

Photo: the sacred life
Artist Unknown

Sometimes, it amazes me just close to the edge I can get.

Just how much I can wander right along the knife-blade without tipping downward.

forward.

Just how far from the seat of forgiveness I can step before I realize that the ground has since disappeared

i am walking on Grace alone.

Sometimes, I find myself at a loss for how much poetry I dream and then promptly forget upon my waking.

It is a powerful ache to realize just how much this world of chaos, of tears, of sleep-stolen moments and overbooked days has ripped my art from me.

It used to be a poem I breathed...a poem of mercy and love that never ceased but only continued to run and run until the stanzas were breathless with words of Him.

And then I awoke. And I forgot it all again.

And then I remember.

i walk on Grace alone 

that lingers in the day and in the night, in the waking and the sleeping.

i breathe His poem.

all hours. all days.

No more knife blade. No more ripped parchment.

i walk on Grace alone. 

Linking up with Emily: imperfect prose on Thursdays, even though this is a Wednesday.
This may become a weekly song.