Going On as It Is

The old man's steps are heavy. Alone, he would have sunk to the ground. But the pony goes ahead and looks back. “Come quickly,” it calls, moving farther away. The staff supports his hand. “Stand up, lean on me once more,” it says, planting itself in the earth. A small boat on the sea. “This way,” it seems to point, following the horizon. “Follow me,” it goes ahead, opening the way. The old man thought he was walking alone. But he was not. The pony calls, the staff lifts him, the boat opens the way. The whole landscape was carrying him onward.

Beside someone who believes they endure alone, something is walking with them like that, too.