And suddenly you know: It’s time to start something new and trust the magic of beginnings.
—Meister Eckhart
rooting for beauty
all day the snow touched everything—
thorn, stain, broken glass
*
in every moment
by what strange forgetfulness
do we not bow to each other
*
fiercely awake—
every invisible angel I doubted
hovers above my bed
*
always this invitation—
become music,
become clear, clear water
*
this terrible ache,
giving it the best seat
at my table
*
after swallowing the sea
still thirsting
for a lake
*
the next true thing—
a wind that begins far away
unbraids my hair
*
not knowing
how to pray, I learn to practice
astonishment
*
finding such
oh
so much more than enough