Nothing is Lost - Part 2

Part 2

Part 2
 

Today we stand upon the shore of what was not promised.  We stand on what our hope found in the depths of certain demise, on what the will of our team tore from the darkness.  We stand granted the reprieve of another tomorrow, still tied by the weight of what is passed.

Our pulse remains faint, remains constant in its push, and though its grasp holds weak at best, its fingers still clutch and gather that next breath, that next grip on life.

We find that the first night did not take us, but opened itself once again.  We find that the past has yet to swallow this quest, and our eyes find a shadow on the horizon, held on the horizon, bound beyond the construct of today.  A storm comes.  The dust of an opposing army still sews itself to the air we breathe.  Nothing is over.  The storm has not passed, our grave remains unfilled, but dug from the earth just the same.

Should the Mavs not “settle” in the warmth of a successful moment, but remain the “aggressor” as they venture away from home towards that waiting storm of desire, anger and destruction, they will come home again with more at hand than thoughts of next season.  They’ll come armed with more than hope.

They’ll return not engulfed by that fog of loss, but standing before it with a raging pulse, a defined will, and granted the weapon of extermination, rather than simply defending against it.  They’ll come as the fire extinguishing the night.  They’ll come as the storm itself.

Yesterday, we played for today.  Tomorrow, we once again find the defibrillator paddle against our chest, and either embrace the shock or fail beneath it.  Tomorrow, we once again hope for another tomorrow.

Still, nothing is over.  Hope has bounced back from starvation, but is yet to be saved, only pacified. 

It is time to embrace the foot at our throat, and apply our own to theirs.

Nothing is lost.

Go Mavs.