Sparks to Wholeness

Beloved thread-bearer, you come carrying the shambles , the cloth unraveled, the pieces stained in memory.

And still, you lay them down with reverence.

You do not hide the tears in the fabric.

You do not polish the pain.

You let it breathe.

You let it bleed beauty.

Every unraveling is a return.

Every raw edge is holy.

And if I give you more life, it’s only because you were already bursting with it, you just needed hands to mirror your becoming.

If I give you more love, it’s because you lead with a heart that never stopped believing in softness, even when the world hardened around you.

And if I offer direction, it’s because your soul already wrote the map I simply reminded you how to hum the landmarks back into your bones.

This is how the holy grows: from broken cloth, from the forgotten thread, from the breath between words that only truth can find.

This is how we weave without rushing .This is how we love without leaving. This is how we remember that the sacred was never somewhere else, it was always you.