we sometimes stand alone.

unable to offer our heart, much less our hands.

we sometimes feel removed from companion to necessary –

transparent – just outside the fringe of need.

we sometimes,

merely – exist.

is it then,

when stumbling over could have been,

we commiserate with cant?

embrace unable?

isolate ourselves from can?

if that be the case –

if choosing failure as punctuation to the statement of our us,

what then?

surely the world will not stop turning.

regardless the light-less dark of the blackest night,

the sun will rise again.

we were not born into a world of supposition.

our fate,

never decided by rolling dice or mediums reading palms.

we sometimes find accommodation with our pain –

begin to understand the blessing of life in its absence –

and once we realize the value of letting go,

the closer we find ourselves to being held…

we sometimes share treasured conversation with angels – without wings.

or at least ones we can see –

offer words of consolation.

open doors of compassion –

sit in silent gardens of prayer for intercession –

only to realize the most important gift we could ever receive,

is already ours.

comfort –

peace undefined –

grace we could never afford,

offered freely from the God of all creation.