The Warmth Of Grace

It's like waking from a fog, slowly. It's like living beneath the cold rays of an obscured sun, waiting for warmth, waiting for warmth. And one day, after 3 months of days with very few words and too little sparkle, there is a shift; small, still shrouded in feathers of fog, but notable.

One breath reaches the floor of the gut, lips upturn, and quietly, life renews.

It has been a productive time; angst and exhaustion leading deeper into the cold and mist where inhibitions rule and humor lies dead and the way out spirals ever downward until 3 spare inches from rock bottom, the cold sun casts a ray on 2 ancient words: let go.

In the letting go, there are things to be kept: compassion, trust and the warmth of grace.