open.

in the pause, I sort the tangle.

I tug at the threads;

the reds,

the blues.

weaving like a net from there to here,

the chaos to the clarity.

these humble hands fold together and soften like tiny animals

under a cloud of rain.

accepting, surrendering

and

calling from that smallest flicker of flame,

for the next deep exhale.

I have stood under a million stars and awed myself silent

so many times.

miracles happen.

remember that.

now.