The stillness of the fall.

And greatness of His rescue.

This wasn’t a faceplant into a wall.
It wasn’t broken bones in a pit—
no stumbling into thorns.

No.
This was different.

A deep nothing disguised as peace,
a falling dream that doesn’t cease—
where you never wake,
you never land,
you simply sink like shifting sand.

Surrounded by objects
in a downward flow,
You can’t reach them,
yet still, further and further,
down you and the well of earthly clutter goes.

She never once spoke to me, but on this day she had.
Her voice returned like memory’s ghost, both haunting me and glad.
Darkness called me her old friend, remembered my number, and made the call.
Reaching for me like a drifted lover, returning as if we’d lost it all.

"Do you remember your mother? How beautiful she was.
Do you remember that position? Knowing you’re in charge.
How about pride for you father? How right he always is.
Or when you built that town? Completely in your head.

"You’re so tired, too broken to be led.
Don’t go crawling back, you know to Him you’re already dead.
You had your chance and failed, all while laying in your bed.
You should have stayed with me where you at least knew you’d be fed.

"Daily bread to fuel the body, for that you know is true—
but to wait on an unseen God? And bread that is not food?

"Be with me!
Lets be free. To rule inside your mind.
If you do, maybe then,
I’ll go back to being kind.

"Until then, rot away for a shiny gate that will never let you in.
Zip your lips and call it quits,
for these words of yours aren’t big.

"Who’s listening? Are they there?
I’ve got more than laughs that I could spare.

"Suit yourself to waste your time,
but watch as you fail to gain a dime.”

Turning on me like a wolf, even in my free fall down,
She speaks as if she knows,
Like with her I could be found.

The distance grows the further I go,
and darker it all becomes.
I can’t walk home or even see where all this had really begun.

With empty hands and a losing race,
I connect my thumb to thumb.
Slow and stead, my fingers touch, straining one by one.

Like an old musician who’d forgotten the strings.
A dry throat, and empty mind.
But still a will that wants to sing,
I push, even as it begins to sting.

To Him who’s great, to Him who knows.
Out my spirit goes.
A gentle prayer, a weeping cry.
Here is where the body dies.

No matter though, the spark began.
And for the words, I had no plan.
Before a breath, before a sound—
I felt Him coming, running, and sprinting down.

He’d saved me.
And on His face was joy, not a doubt on Him to be found.

Even so I push the flow, and shared all that I had lost.
My time with Him, the relationship I loved, all for at what cost?
Set aside because she came and said I am not worthy enough.
I believed her, making the surface of my heart something cold and something rough.

“Who told you this? Who said you were uncovered?
That my blood didn’t suffice in a world I’d already concurred?
Who said this to you, ‘be enough’?”

The fool I’d been and how far I still yet have to go.
But as for His grace, this..
This I truly know.