The Anchor of the Unseen

The coffee cools against the morning chill, and I am weary of the heavy pace. You do not ask me to be steel or stone, only to lean into the steady grace that holds the planets in their hollow arcs and marks the sparrow as it takes to flight. I trade my frantic grasping for the dark, and find a grip that reaches through the night.

It is not bravado that I need today, nor muscles flexed against the rising tide. It is the quiet courage born of breath, the way the ancient waters must subside. I feel the trembling in my own two hands, the echoes of the doubt I cannot name, yet strength is not a fire I must ignite—it is a furnace that You always claim.

So let the shadows stretch across the floor, I have no map for where the road might bend. I only know the Shepherd walks ahead, a faithful shadow that will not descend. With steady heart, I step into the haze, the promise etched within my deepest core; that You are more than all I fear to lose, and You are everything I’m longing for.