I am tired of everything the universe asks of me
I am tired of patience, or diligence, of seeing the higher purpose
Of opening my arms to catch the bricks of every falling tower
Only to have them crumble in my hands and return to the earth, covering my toes in dust
I am spread across the ground like this leftover rubble
Dirty with regret
My best years are gone
And my future is hidden behind giant clouds and lightning
Yet the universe asks for more patience. More gratitude. More discipline.
I have nothing left and there is another leap to take. So I must tumble myself into the next phase.
I am told: this is greater than the individual course of your fate. But there is so much I don’t understand.
How do I know what to do next if I have never lived this before?
And over and over the answer comes:
Patience. Diligence. You must wait. You must continue.
The last brick falls. The earth swallows every last crumbling stone.
I stand in a bare field, and the universe asks me for faith. She asks me for trust.
I am as angry as a bare root. I am as hardy as a seedling. I am as grieved as a stump. I am as small as a twig.
But in the emptiness I plant my feet