A single thread of life begins to spin its pattern
the moment we gulp first air, utter first cry.

Years have circled us, intimately connecting days.
Now as we feel death’s breath hovering near,

life grows fragile, grows frayed. But we do not fear.
We do not dangle feckless as a storm-swept web,

nor do we feel hope scurry away into the darkness.
Our tensile design, spun from a daily life of roads

traveled and psalms chanted, invites perseverance
on the path until   step by step,   breath by breath,

we enter the Center.


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