I walked my own road
Not through someone else's landscape
Through my own life
With all its detours
And its long silences
At some point I sat down
Not by a scenic river
Just somewhere ordinary
The wind moved through the trees
It had already seen everything
It had scattered the chaff
And tested the roots
And then I was holding this old text
And for the first time
I did not hear the voice of the judges
I heard something else
Blessed is the one
Who does not walk in the counsel of the wicked
Or stand in the way of sinners
Or sit in the seat of mockers
That person is like a tree
Planted by streams of water
Which yields its fruit in season
Whose leaf does not wither
For the Lord watches over the way of the righteous
But the way of the wicked leads nowhere
Which way am I walking, actually?
This text has a silent assumption underneath it
Not written down
Not argued for
The psalm assumes there is a God
Who knows two ways
And sees the difference between them
Not as a simple judge
But as the one who sees
What is rooted
And what is blown away
What has no root
Cannot hold the storm
The psalm does not say
Be good and things will go well
It says something deeper
There is an order
There is a way that gives life
And every day
You choose which one you walk
Alex · Quellenbeziehungen