He sees it. Hanging in thin air just out of his reach. The Light. The hope of becoming new. He just can't reach it.
In his left hand he holds an anchor, and with his right he reaches for the light.
He won't let go, but he wants to more than anything. He can't let go - not on his own. He asks for help from those around him, and they do what they can. But he's been holding on for over half his life. It was with him when he ate, when he slept, when he went to shool, when he dated, when he worked, when he played, it was there.
But In his left hand he holds the anchor, and with this right he reaches for the light.
He can't have both. He knows he can't. He won't let go because it's all he knows. He won't let go because he hasn't tasted the hope and purity of the light in so long, he has forgotten what it even means - what it's all about. He knows the light...he knew the light. He doesn't even know himself anymore. All he knows is the anchor.
And in his left hand he holds that anchor, and with his right he reaches for the light.
It's time to let go. Let go of your past, so that you may embrace your future. Let go of your baggage so that you may jump and be free. Let go of your burden so that you may help others with theirs. Let go of your desire so that you can focus on His. Let go of the anchor. Let it go.
So with his left hand, he drops the anchor, and with his right he reaches the light.
Oh, that my story may have such an ending.
Oh, that I may drop my anchor and salvage what's left
of the destruction that it has wreaked while in my hand.
-R.
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