On the Edge of Breakthrough

In the restful place.

In the certain place.

Upon the shore.

Upon that which is shore.

In the place where you lay.

In the place where you lay down.

In the place of the lying down.

In the exposed place.

Upon the border line.

Upon the edge of turbulence.

Resting upon the edge.

On the edge of that which breaks.

In the place of the breakers.

In the place of the waves.

Resting near that which breaks.

Upon that which was broken.

In the feeble place.

In the refined place.

In the isolated place.

In the place where you just wanted some alone time.

In the place of the closing.

In the dark place.

In the place of solitude.

In the place of rest.

Where all you hear are the lapping of the waves.

Close but far enough away to be out of danger.

Resting there in the midst.

An eye opening moment.

Closed to this world, but open to my world.

Transported to another place.

To the place of the ancients.

An ancient path, the path of the ancients.

The ancient of ways for the ancient of days.

The future invading the past.

The future invading that which is past.

A new era overshadowing a bygone era.

And this is where you find yourself.

Upon the edge of that which is gone, and that which has now arrived.

And what is it you see?

The broken guard rails, the hand rails barely capable of providing support. The wind blowing on that which lies derelict. What once was a vibrant place, now lying desolate. I hear the sound of what was once a happening place, a bridge that so many walked upon, many years ago. Now a dry place, now a desolate place, now a derelict place.

But then what happened?

I found myself walking upon the path you set before me. And as I walked I saw evidence of a great change. The dry desert place, now wet with anticipation, tuffs of green grass appeared. A great sense of anticipation overtook my senses.

The ancient of ways for the ancient of days.

The ancient of ways for the ancient of days.

The ancient of ways for the ancient of days.

For the path of restoration appears before you.

With your arrival everything now changes.

Like the quickening of an ancient womb.

The new invading the old.

The new transforming the old.

For the dry reception, is now wet with anticipation.

For the old looks to maintain that which was once built.

Yet for you the old will give birth to that which is yet to come.

In the natural the old maintains that which was once new.

I know I am out of order.

For that which is new shall come out of that which is old.

For that which is new shall come out of that which is old.

For what I have promised must emerge, must break forth, must break cover, must come out, must be released, must be manifest.

For it cries out to me.

For it cries out in anticipation.

For it cries out announcing it's birth.

For you are "with child".

For you are "with children".

Not a natural birth.

Not an ordinary birth.

First the expansion, then the contraction, then the expansion, then the crying out, then the crying, then the manifestation of what I have birthed in you.

For they all know what you are carrying.

Yet when it is birthed everything changes.