I remembered I needed to cut the weed hiding the electric meter. With shears in hand I went to prune. I discovered the weed bush, growing up between the foundation and cement driveway, was in fact, filled with buds and two blooming rose-like flowers. What I intended to cast off embraced me. I did not, do not know what it is. Knowledge sometimes is but the handmaiden of beauty.
“You have traveled too fast over false ground;
Now your soul has come to take you back.
Take refuge in your senses, open up
To all the small miracles you rushed through. ....
Draw alongside the silence of stone
Until its calmness can claim you.”
― John O'Donohue
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