by Brian Troyer

Created on: July 01, 2009   Last Updated: July 02, 2009

A Soul in the Balance

A soul in the balance,

A heart on a string,

A mind walking the fine line

Between holy and damned.

Teetering, tottering,

Tipping, tripping,

Fighting wildly to stay upright.

One misstep, a single misjudgment,

And the entire apparatus crashes down.

A heart falls,

A mind plunges off the string,

The soul left shaking, shivering, slipping,

Falling.

Into the loving hands of its maker.

It is caught on a cushion called Mercy,

The three parts wrapped gently, warmly,

Snuggled together in a blanket named Grace.

They are cleaned, cleansed,

Washed and made white and pure.

Then they are lifted up once more,

Carried back to the test.

But the loving hands do not give them back to the string,

Shaky, weak, uncertain.

The hands gingerly set them on a rock.

Firm. Strong. Unmoving.

Now you can run to me on your own, He says, and I will catch you up in my endless love again

and again

and again,

For you are forgiven.

And you are mine.

And I love you.

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