The line is a coarse wavelength and a precipitous fall into prospective selection; ID’s are checked, and the eyes start moving at an unprecedented rate. It’s tracking one who isn’t taken and one who is ready to have fun. This line diverts from A to B to Z when the eyes funnel towards one that it wants and possibly doesn’t think it can get. But the eyes never loses their speck of history.
I didn’t protect her with my words. I judged and infiltrated embarrassment. It’s hard to clean the lens of another, and the fog kept her from seeing the good afterwards. When the cue ball is struck it can help others break free or it positions them in the corner of a tough shot. The line is harder to angle and the next shot can only be crafted through wisdom. But sometimes I play the guy’s way into surviving loneliness even when I have enough to play the man’s way through adversity.
The game will be in my favor and the line will be there if I want to stand in it. But fear is the sound of heels clicking through my mind- there’s a temptation to hear it here rather than hear the steps walking away. But as she walks away, I get restless to be a man and the zone invites the Advent to come near. If I walk away, it’ll be a line that draws itself in the sand and slowly disappears into the fade of wandering. Instead, would my knees buckle and my head drop to stay where I don’t want to stand because it channels the thought of failure and unwarranted hurt unto others. But in it, I’ll be enveloped with a hymn of glory that will show me a different path.
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