I am wriggling my way in through the small opening of a balloon, only inside it is infinite. In the last few days I have become aware of the imminence of vast change but not yet witnessed its manifestation. I have made my way inside, the dust of my dreaming still coating my skin, and I can see everything now, though some of it is still animated by my imagination. I catch my breath again and fall into the lap of my own faith, so generous it has been in raveling out these many moons, these fragmentary hours. This kaleidoscopic beauty--It is mine, it is mine, I whisper to no one in particular and know, without speaking it, that it always was.