We spend our whole lives building walls. Drywall. Ego. Prejudice. Then we drill a single hole in them just to remind ourselves that we are not an island.
This isn't about the act. It’s about the . gloryhole swallow faith
Raw, vulnerable, philosophical.
Faith isn’t believing in the visible. Faith is the muscle in your throat that relaxes instead of clenches. It’s the surrender to the unknown. It’s the trust that on the other side of that crumbling wall—behind the rough hands and the muffled groan of a stranger—there is still a human being begging to be accepted without judgment. We spend our whole lives building walls
