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The Glorious Mess

Growing pains. In the dark mess, you know no light. Logic has no reasoning. Pain and turmoil are what you know. There is no rest from your own mind. It spins on and on - out of control. You no longer can outrun what you have desperately tried to escape. The Pit you have fallen into is your prison, and despite desperately clawing you cannot climb out these walls. This is your season to face the demons and to stare them down. To face what has happened and let the mess embrace you. We were made for more than mess. But we are not glorious without mess. So may you claim your mess as your own. May you wrestle with it and let it mould you and become yours. You cannot outrun it. You

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