Category Archives: The Evidentialism Files

The Line

The Line

It is not the wind that moves,
not the earth that shifts,
not the river breaking its banks.

It is the line.
Straight, unyielding,
though the ground beneath it sways.

It does not ask if the hill is steep,
if the night is long,
if the body bends under its weight.

It does not pause for a voice behind it,
the call of a soft chair,
the hush of a closing door.

It is only forward.

And forward is the only path it knows.

Unyielding

Unyielding

Tell me—
what is love if not the teeth bared,
the breath held, the earth rushing up
to meet your refusal?

What is devotion if not the leap—
not graceful, not careful,
but certain?

There is no calculation in love,
only the knowing:
this is mine to hold,
this is mine to keep safe.

And so,
with the sky against me,
with the wind cutting through,
I do.