Sometimes there are jewels in the cracks we step over in life, and the people that follow us - tracing our steps with a light heart and unsearching eyes - will miss their glint. Sometimes I want to record things I feel aren't mine to tell on a hidden scrap.
Sometimes I'm afraid I'll forget the power of unexpected and potent miracles, the spirit words will never describe. Then, I remember that scratchings of black ink on a page reflect a mere paucity of what the heart finds rearranged.
The only way to find and remember is by living truly.
