Hark

Hark.

I know

this

is my journey….

the strength

is that

of

twine

sometimes

unraveled,

till

almost

fatal, though

the

thread

was

never the

mir-acle

force

from which

I grew

wings.

Nor did

steps

rise from

ribs

but veins

that

voices

moved to

that space

of which

I tend -

the

broken….

transformed

by

weakness

only

a breath of surrender -

pain -

only

a vessel for glory.

Hark.

The blessings,

of

warrior - mystic

purpose.

AMEN.