Standing firm, feet in place. Neither willing to budge. The cement that held their feet was made up of many things. Composed of time and pain and frustration. Equally borne, equally shared.
Bumps. Barricades. Hurdles. They have been there before. Not necessarily there, just there. In that disconcerted space. Where the very things that bind them cause them to divide, detach, and isolate.
They forget the things they share because they simply forget to share. To lean, to shoulder, to let go, and embrace. Bending in the wrong direction, ultimately they break. Fractures open wide and rivers turn to lakes.
"Lakes are beautiful", one said. "So are rivers, oceans, and streams", replied the other. Then suddenly they remembered. How very much they loved the water. Because water reflects light.
We are all made of light.
Stretching far behind, the course that lead to the crossroad. Built on tiny cracks. Bricks lined the passage, settled perfectly in place.
Together, hand in hand, they took a step. Direction not important. Location unknown. All that remained were footprints. Pressed deep in to the stone. A reminder of what was, what will never be again.
the cracks provide the light,
the light will guide the path.
follow it to water,
and let the cleansing begin.