We might never see freedom.
We could lie in the waters, stammer in the dark, hope with our fingers crossed, fast to honor God.
Worship at the temple, kneel in sacrifice and sweat and heave and sigh and scream and beg.
And try. And work.
And then age spreads like a curse through the skin and bones. Or the Lord calls us early to the throne.
What a life.
To live and die poor.
To live and die in terror.