Dust

I sat there in disbelief.
Looking at the pile of stones in front of me.
I didn't know what to do, so I started to pick them up, to build and put back together what was now lost.
But because it was lost, as I picked up the stones and tried to build with them, they crumbled underneath one another and began turning to dust.
I yelled and cried out in despair, 'but I'm trying so hard!' Somehow expecting the pile of dust to hear me, and form the way I wanted them to.

But the dust remained silent.

So I began to cry.

And as I was crying I noticed that each small piece of dust had something written on it. I'm not sure how I could see the writing because after all, it's dust, they were so small, but it was more like i could see them because I could feel them.

And as I looked closely at the names this is what was written:

Deceit
Pettiness
Lies
Betrayal
Drinking
Sarcasm
Belittling
Insulting
Gaslighting
Cheating
Selfishness
Greed

And as my tears fell, I saw that the tears also had something written on them:

Love
Hope
Dreams
Goals
Loyalty
Honesty
Integrity
Kindness
Patience
Giving

And I became angry because I was afraid that as my tears fell into the dust filled with horrible names, that all the goodness of the tears would be wasted.

But as they fell, they made the dust begin to form into clay.

And at first I started pounding the clay, as hard as I could, until my fists were hurt and bruised and bloody. And when my fists hurt so bad that I couldn't hit the clay anymore I began screaming at it for everything that was unfair and hard and destroyed because of it.

And the clay remained silent.

But then, my anger faded. And I sat there, staring at this pile of clay, continuing to cry, having no idea what to do now because I was so tired.

And as more tears fell, I reached out again to the clay, and started using my tears to slowly form it.

At first I wasn't sure what I was forming, but somehow I knew it would be good.

The clay was no longer dust or hard to work with, but formed easily in my hands that were still bruised, and I realized I could create whatever I wanted, whatever my heart was telling me to make.

And with my heart guiding me, the clay formed into a smooth, flat surface...a step.

Then I formed another step onto that one, and another, and another, and once I was finished, I looked at it, and my heart told me it was good.

I waited a bit for the clay to dry. And as I waited my heart was content, but also excited because I realized that the steps were going to lead me somewhere. Where they lead I wasn't sure, but I knew it would be somewhere worthwhile.

I touched the first step with my finger. And it was dry. And I stared at these steps I'd made in wonder. Thinking on that pile of dust, and knowing that I had to try to save those pieces of dust to get to this place where the steps now laid out before me. Because had I just given up, the tears filled with love and hope would not have come, and the steps would not be here for me to climb.

So, with excitement, with new hope and love, and a little bit of nervousness, I placed my foot on the first step. And then the next, and the next. And before I knew it, I rose up from the ashes, the dust, and began to climb.