He walks because everywhere are all rubbles. One step at a time and every step is slippery. A slip will receive a clout from the empyrean. Every day is a wary walk, the decision, the same the choice of precipitous fall or inner turmoil. Every step is that struggling for one lousy choice. There is no pleasant choice.
Still he treads carefully; however crushing it feels the brunt he perseveres to stand; with cuts and bruises to forge forward to the next step. He may have lost his way, his faith, but why the hell would he persevere with an always precipitous path?
Perhaps he is the bald tree but favors by Him, the rainbows above it, where his wishful hope lies.
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