each strand holding fast to its anchor,
moments in time spiraling
centered
limned with tears like drops of dew.
May I learn the carry in me threads enough to weave the warp and weft of a lifetime.
May I learn to connect to whatever anchors this life affords.
May the work of that life remain to glisten as yours does,
little Weaver,
a waypoint on the path
for those who follow.
So may it be.
Image of a spider’s web woven between the bare branches of a tree limb, glistening with dew.
Image from Pixabay on Spark Post.
Rooted Flame and a Deep Wellspring 