Galleried forever in the fortune cookie of life. Garnished with dandelion. Frenzied with the idea that forever might be a makeshift elation assembled from recycled scraps collected on the shore.

Whatever you say in a whisper holds my voice. In the void of patience we cast our coins. They shimmer gold and silver like submerged suns and underwater moons. Glorious is each new day. And so ceaseless are the jarring blows that shake us trembling off the path.

Notice yourself at the bottom of each fall. Hey there, say. See how it feels to touch your chest and listen to your breath. In which cupboard are you placing unconfronted thoughts? Why are you hiding so fervently the honey that can nourish you?

See into everyone you love and name each desire to see them elated. Somewhere here is the resolve to resurrect listening to your call.

There is a lion leaving messages for you on the wind. Listen, she says, to the sound of how you love and glide into that richness. See yourself in full sprint across fields of what you you worship and let everything be a clue back to this elation.

***

Last month I put out this work of my heart, All the Beloved Known Things, into the world. It would be a great joy to me for you to have it.