A flicker of grace 

I am struck tonight in the stillness by a sense of the strangeness of grace.

So many threads make up the narrative of my story. There are dark threads, shadowed with trauma. Pain weaves throughout, as a journeymate. 

But there is more. Somewhere underneath, peeking through, are threads that shimmer. I am not sure what they are, yet.

You see, I can only see the underside. What the weaving will look like, when it is removed from the loom, is a mystery. 

But even from this side of the cloth, there is beauty. 

May it be. 


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