Thursday, April 7, 2011


The sun warms my body and sends the snow into the earth. Its heat has a moving shadow that undulates in the square of light on my office floor. My own shadow there is ageless, featureless, but not without the crisp form I recognize as my own.

I move in silence these days, in quiet anticipation of what will come from this seed. Oh. It grows me. Promises that it will bloom the way my heart believes it will. I have always only been its steward. Like a child, it is mine while it is mine, for a time. For a time.

I nurture it, love it up, present it to the world. There is beauty here. Also perfect intent--it is this last that will grow in the hearts of uncountable others. Unfathomable love. Undeniable healing. Whisper of the divine as I conceived it. And what we love: a good story with characters to believe in. In gratitude. In gratitude.

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