thin threads incapable of holding anything of note.
My fishing futile, with nothing much to show for all I’ve done.
I sit with Peter and his friends,
cold in the dark, my minds amalgam of faith and uncertainty in equal parts with hope and fear,
not knowing what’s best, what my next move should be.
Times when I sit alone, human and vulnerable,
boat drifting in an early morning mist of fearfulness – net snagged on disappointment.
And yet you’re there, walking the edges of my life.
Calling me to one more effort,
your presence tempering the dark, your sunrise scattering the mist.
And when I move to try again, your early morning promise offers me warmth and welcome,
and the reassurance that my life is lived with you and the darkness,
and the mist don’t count.” - Eddie Askew

