The Grand Canyon
Everything was working against it, and yet for it. Violence and isolation, woven into endless stretches of time, were a part of the very intentional and very intricate process of its coming-of-age.
Shifting and reforming from below as foundations moved, and from above as suffocating deluges added insult to injury, its absolute rock-bottom gave way to new depths.
Relentlessly the elements persisted. Even its own crumbly-clay fabric was used to carve out its deep, deep chasms.
Yet despite its cursed existence, it is anything but a futile wasteland. No, it is a wonder of creation—inspiring and majestic. A banner of beauty. A fingerprint of salvation. Breathtaking from every vantage point.
Bidding still, that nature run its course.
Engraved by the hand of destruction at the hand of the Creator, it is not empty. Patiently and skillfully sculpted, it is not forsaken.
Its gashed and gorged landscape is full—teeming with color and light and life.