swampy abyss

the weight of the world, the dejection of a thousand, thousand souls sat on his back, desolation surrounded him. he was in a bad place, the baddest of places, on a rock floating in a swampy abyss of nothingness.

but even in his pit of despair, he was not alone and as he felt the arms wrapped around him tightly the melancholia lifted a little and his breath became less laboured. Each burden; he thought of it, touched it, held it and then let it go. His head rested in the arms, feelings of safety were beginning to return.

He was not yet ready to embark on the ascent of the abyss, he was patient, waiting, healing. One day soon, he would stand, not in his own strength, with the help of the one whose arms now are so snuggly encircling him. Later still those same arms will lift him out and place him on solid ground.