—a parade
of all the things
you were supposed to have loved,
everyone you should have cherished,
even in clamped and fractured times
someone who believed in you,
the little thing one might have been grateful for,
everything you missed…
It’s a long parade.

It ends the moment you enter it.

Weather Report

the air heavy with possibility
under a cumulus of blessings.
At lower levels obscuring fog will persist;
at higher levels wonder will give way to gratitude,
the winds of fortune loaded
with more grace than you can absorb,
though the wise will try.

Steve Garnaas-Holmes
Unfolding Light

August 24, 2021

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