We twist, bend, contort ourselves all sorts of peculiar shapes — survive. But what of the hands that pulled and ripped, tore and swore? Oh, this tangled mess of mine! Let me not shame you again, but look this time with curious eye.

You pull a thread, I pull a thread, suddenly - tangled tangles everywhere We roll around, fall upside down, you find a thread but lose a crown. Work is in the re-wind, re-claim, Wonder in the re-turn, re-main re-member, re-gain. the knots break into dance - applause. How terribly strange!! Perhaps we aren't meant to be de-tangled again, Who said we had to come back the same?

Such peculiar business, being human. Here we are, you and I, two creatures living, thriving, surviving — one sky. Neither quite whole, neither quite wise, both carrying worlds behind our eyes. The world is unwell, and so are we, yet here we arrive, re-assemble, trying to see. We cannot mend all broken wings, or broken promises or broken things. But perhaps — the heart of it all is this: Courage. Courage. Courage.

quite unexpectedly, a commotion, a disturbance, something inside begins to rumble. a laugh, a growl, a scream, a howl. the walls inside tremble and crumble. cracked open — despite ourselves, an endless, unreasonable life force emerges. Oh, the glorious mess and the purposeless passion of being Alive!