The first moments returning from the depths of desperation are the scariest of all.
Like the one who can no longer feel the weight of the cool, balanced handle and so sheaths the knife’s pristine edges within his naked and steady hand, he wants believe that the worst has passed. Yet now he openly questions the loyalty of his own depraved heart.
So where is our next approach, where is the next breach, in a world where deception and grace equally abound?
Desperation, it is said, is built upon the lies of our past.
But if our history doesn’t speak to us of absolute freedom, neither does it hold us in eternal bondage