a small gratitude

we are led back to our history in strange steps.

two years sweeping over scarlet horizons. the pen rests on the page where the book was opened.

two weeks of thickening transformations. everything comes out of the wash sparkling with golden threads.

every leap of faith is rewarded with stronger legs and stunning views across the ravine.
i am grateful for all that i could not see and all that remains to unfold before me.