~ For the ones who walked beside you, but never with you ~
We stepped into the field as if we were one,
shoulders aligned, hearts hopeful,
but the weight I carried was never matched,
and the soil beneath us told the truth.
You said the right words,
mirrored my faith like sunlight on glass—
beautiful, but without warmth.
I mistook reflection for presence.
I plowed forward, eyes on the harvest,
while you paused to admire the view.
I dug deep—into prayer, into purpose, into pain—
while you stayed at the surface, untouched, unmoved.
You were drawn to the fruit,
but not the labor.
To the strength, but not the sacrifice.
To the man, but not the mission.
We were yoked in name,
but not in soul.
You craved comfort; I craved calling.
You wanted safety; I wanted surrender.
And still, I tried to walk slow,
to match your pace, to lighten your load.
But a man can only drag purpose so far
before it becomes a burial.
Now I walk alone—
but not alone in truth.
For beside me now is clarity,
and a God who matches stride for stride.