Christian

She dreamt of a stranger, his fractional smile a mere flicker before he disappeared over the building’s edge.

This wakes her up, filling her with irrational tension. A haunting peculiar for it is a place never seen before, with a faint touch of the ethereal.

Who are you, she quietly asks with an arm outstretched, but her words are simply mixing with oxygen.

Weeks go by, and it remains a sequence that slips in uninvited from time to time. The same wakefulness will capture her utmost attention, but there is no clue. Until one day, in the most ordinary of ways, she sees him in a street full of people. And mad is she, certainly, to have glimpsed a cordial curl of the mouth?

His gaze averts, and she pursues. Though foolish to endure without reason, she will not be deterred. They arrive on the rooftop, a scene startling alike. His foot leaning by the end of all that is.

She walks slowly, terribly afraid to see that moment. When she is but two steps away, his voice breaks.

Do you trust me? are the words uttered.

Take a deep breath. Nod of the head.

Close your eyes, he murmurs with a faint smile, and she does.

Hands curve themselves and then, the lightness of being. A scream. They are falling into gravity’s coarse arms. There is no comfort in the aforementioned thought.

He whispers against her ear, believe.

And believe, believe in facing the unknown courageously and this is when they fly upwards by the spread of his wings. Her eyes widen.

You’ve always been too afraid to face the end of your dream, he says with a gentle smile. And now you finally know.

Bewildered by beauty, I gave broken pieces and You built me a palace of glass.

You remind me of my inheritance, that the shine of the heirloom on my head is a symbol of Your interminable love.

Lift your eyes, my child, are the words You gently whisper, for often I forget to stop staring at my damaged feet and instead to sight endless glory.

What else can I do, but to always try my best to grasp the depth of Your faultless love?

I am but a child, grown and grown not at all.

I have seen ice and fire, stars and sculptures, sand and earth.

So have I for war and pain, sorrow and loss, death and tears.

My hands grab at the fleeting, they slip and shatter. Leaves wither and paper boats sink.

Is there love still behind a slammed door, or forgiveness possible in the eyes of a loaded gun?

Even so, in the case of the eternal I know where to look.

Footprints beside mine in the sand, filled with the salt of the ocean.

My God’s love and mercy sings me into a blessed sleep.

This is love.

When I was hurting like a flower strangled in a bed of weeds, the God of the universe knelt on the ground and cleared them away. One by one, and light came to be.

I knew then in my heart of hearts a most wonderful and glorious thing: He noticed me. Not just now, but for always.

And surely I will follow Him the same way a sunflower chases the golden sun.

I will love, love with the silence of the moon.

The shadow that follows at your feet.

The one more peek before one falls asleep.

The bare touch of passing hands.

Love loud and proud, they say, don’t you hide in the dark.

Yet even the Lord did not always burst into the room — He came as a gentle whisper.