How many times do we feel underneath a pressure heavier than the weight
of our own ambitions?
As if there is no real way to escape the impending blade that started to
fall since your birth.
Even the ones that swore to protect you can turn into the executioners
of your faith and hope; but hope will always draw another breath.
After all this time and all these steps I know this emotion all too
well.
I am at peace with the weight that I have had to carry this far, and
even the sharpness of the blade wielded against me doesn’t seem quite as
deadly.
We choose to point the finger in an attempt to keep from ever having to look
in the mirror.
We choose to place our own necks under the guillotine, and then tell the
world that they did this to us.
Under a pressure we have never known, all these wounded hearts become
beautiful diamonds.
Today I looked into the mirror and what I saw was a finger pointing back
at me.
Today I stopped pointing the finger back at that wounded reflection.
Today I stopped playing both the executioner and the victim.
There will never be a way to stop Time The Thief
from dropping the blade across our days, from scarring our own hearts, or from
forcing us to look into the mirror against our will.
All we have ever had was hope, our hope that Time The Thief cannot ever hold, and therefore
can never truly steal. It is hope that dulls the blade, hope alone that ever
helps give us the strength to forgive ourselves for ever thinking that we could
continue pointing our fingers for so very long.
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