How many times I've felt like this.
Like the road I'm standing on is fragmented
and falling apart.
But the road keeps going, as battered as it may be.
And so do we, as battered as we may feel.
We keep following the way that's laid out before us.
Like our choosing has anything to do with it.
Some days we question it.
Kick our feet and stomp along it's edges.
But we can't abandon it.
It's ours.
The one that's been given to us.
And in the end,
I think we find ways to love it.
All of its imperfections and its fractured nature,
they lend us something that the smooth places cannot.
And so we keep walking.
And perhaps it is our commitment to the act which brings the beauty.
Like the road I'm standing on is fragmented
and falling apart.
But the road keeps going, as battered as it may be.
And so do we, as battered as we may feel.
We keep following the way that's laid out before us.
Like our choosing has anything to do with it.
Some days we question it.
Kick our feet and stomp along it's edges.
But we can't abandon it.
It's ours.
The one that's been given to us.
And in the end,
I think we find ways to love it.
All of its imperfections and its fractured nature,
they lend us something that the smooth places cannot.
And so we keep walking.
And perhaps it is our commitment to the act which brings the beauty.