“ The stones were sharp,The wind came at my back;Walking along the highway, Mincing like a cat. ”
Those who are willing to be vulnerable move among mysteries.
~ Theodore Roethke
In a dark time, the eye begins to see.
By daily dying, I have come to be.
I wake to sleep, and take my waking slow. I feel my fate in what I cannot fear. I learn by going where I have to go.
