the faint glimmer

Last night I did something for the first time in a very long time. I prayed. More than that, though; I prayced sincerely. There was something about just opening myself up, of letting myself get scared that shocked me into action - the panic began to surface. And in realising that panic, I prayed.

I asked God to show me a way out of the darkness. I echoed Lucy's cry for help, and asked Him to give me a light by which to guide myself. I asked Him to lead me out of the dark, and to where I could once more drink the living waters.

That's all it was, a simple prayer. But in its simplicity it echoed with sincerety. It was a cry for help from one who had finally realised just how lost he was.

As I prayed that, something happened. It was just for an instant before other things began crowding it out. But for that instant, I felt the joy of realisation, and the joy of being accepted back totally and wholly. It was just a taste of what is in store.

There's a lot of work to do. There's a lot of time and ground that needs to be taken back. There's lost time that needs to be made up for.

But a change has been made. While the cold, the emptiness, the numbness still remain, there is something else in there. There is that faint glimmer of hope.

There is now something to look forward to. It is no longer an entire consumation by the darnkess. The faintest of glimmers of light is visible. And that light sprints hope eternal.