Time Marches On

I feel like I'm standing on a ledge that leads up to a precipice. Behind me, time's hand. It is pressed flat against my back and, no matter how I dig my heels into the dirt, it pushes me forward. As I reach out to those around me, in order to slow down, God laughs and the pressure increases.

We grip each other as we are pressed forward to the edge. I must jump first. I will jump first.

I will crouch before springing forward over the darkness. My arms flung wide to embrace the mist that rushes up to greet me. I am to blaze that mist away for him. The path I make is his to follow, a taste of what his future holds.

 When I touch that mist, I turn and look back up to the sky. Blue fills my vision. A pure blue. Then I see his face, peering over the edge of the cliff. He's watching me, conflict in his eyes. He loves me, supports me, but does not want me to leave.

Half of me wants to stay on that ledge with him. But gravity is dragging me into the canyon, until all I see around me is mist. There is no place to look but down. So I twist my body to face my destination, and embrace it fully.

It will be hard to climb back up to the other side. Harder still to watch him make that jump.

Then we will be forced to walk. Him at the bottom of his canyon, and me along a long, dusty road. For how can the world be green when we are missing from each other? I will walk along the edge of the canyon, pressed ever onward by that great, invisible hand, and stare down into the darkness.

For even as we are apart, I must believe that I will be able to see him, any sign of him, in the swirling depths.

After what seems like an eternity, he will climb out of his canyon stronger than ever before.

And I will be there. Waiting to fold him into my arms.

In that moment, when I finally get to hold him and not fear when time must take him away, the sky breaks open. The rain calming the dust and drawing out the green life that had been dorment.

... if that is our ending, why do I feel like crying?