Strong Hands

Sometime long ago I journeyed to the bottom of the sea. In my seeking, I plunged into depths so deep light no longer reached. In that abyss, of darkness, I found myself abandoned and yearning for air. In my pride, I had gone too far from the surface above. Rescue was nowhere in sight and I was powerless to save myself. I tried with all my strength to swim upwards yet I was too weak and only sunk deeper. My body became colder than ice and fear conquered me. How was it that even in my desperation to live, I was only able to sink deeper into that abyss? Why did ever wish to see the bottom? As I sunk all I could do was think of all the wrong I had accomplished. Soon my lungs began to burn and my muscles screamed tight in fight. Relief came when I surrendered. As water filled my lungs the searing pain finally disappeared. Will I now at long last see the bottom? As I sunk massive hands reached out for me. Warmth enveloped me as my limp body was held. The fingers were softer then pillows and palms as smooth as riverstones. Fear drained from my body and breath filled my lungs once again. Where am I to go now that I have discovered I am too weak to swim to the bottom? Why does my soul yearn to go where I cannot survive? Must I make a home in these hands that saved me? In my confusion and peace I slept. When I awoke I saw that had been laid at the bottom upon soft sand. Somehow what was one dark had been illuminated. The cold that gripped my body was no more. I have reached what my heart had yearned for even though my strength gave out. Life springs forth from death and joy from mourning. What was dark shall be illuminated and what was heavy shall be made light. The faster our strength runs out the faster we can at last find peace.