What looked like a dead end
to the path less taken
turned into more of
a vertical journey within,
and becoming even more connected
with God and with my own
There was a gratitude beyond words
for each tiny piece of truth
that added to an unshakeable knowing —
the remembrance of my very essence
that could never be broken —
a tender space
where there had once been
I learned to focus
and remain centered within
I found respite in the sacredness
when the world around me seemed
and I couldn’t seem
to bridge the gap between my inner
experience and the outer chaos.
The harder I tried,
the bigger it became.
I remembered back to times before
when the only solution I could see
was to let go of my heart
in order to survive and somehow
manage to fit in.
But this time I had traveled too far
and learned too much.
And so the only thing to do,
having reached the end of the path,
was to stand still right there in my heart,
in the middle of the chaos,
and hope for the best.
Even when it seemed like
any sense of inner peace
had been lost,
it was there.
It took only the intention
of entering a state of prayer
to refocus on the present moment
and find the center of my heart —
where I could hear the quiet prayer
that was always there.
Writing became a meditation,
an easily accessible way
to connect with a truer sense
of self —
in any moment.
My notes became precious tickets
back to parts of self
and back into the world.
Even after I reached a point
where I could safely let go,
translating lived experience
into words continued to be
a ticket into the quiet space within
I wouldn’t have traded
for an easier path.
No words were needed each time I found my way to the quiet prayer in my heart.
Words carried there faded with the light of the presence of my own healer Self. The urge to look outward for relief in times of challenge was replaced with the understanding beyond thought found within and reflected outward.