Words fall like a puzzle as I piece my lessons together, falling on perked ears, I trust the inner butterflies to guide my fragile understanding, a mobile made of glass, twisting and spinning, catching light at the right angles. I whisper to them and shine them up until they sparkle like crystal and I close my eyes to set them free, dreams weaving as I speak. I am a bridge to the light realm, a beckoner to that which lies beyond, a stealer of memories, of images to paint the picture of me, of this, of the just now and the forever. With belief and trust we merge and swim in the same rivers, feeling the flowing grace and allowance waters wrapping their tender tendrils around, and mingling minds because curiosity cannot be ignored. It pulls tangles out and laughs at them, smoothing them out into hammocks to lay in the open sunshine.
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