Article voiceover
We leave here loose threads, not one of them tied. Not one of them double bowed or neatly tucked away. Nothing unsaid is suddenly spoken, as if tongues were ribbons able to bind belated gifts of forgiveness and apology. We leave only a fray to where life was torn from the very act of being lived… where all loose trims were left mid-hem and unfastened pins scatter down the cosmic lap of a maker we cannot yet know the face of. Perhaps it is for others to pull together what lies undone, and knot the billowing threads that unravel against the empty sky into their own lives, their own words, and continue as if there were only one loom to which all words are spun: one life being continuously run through the narrative we choose to honor the shape of love.
For all the words that were left unsaid - that now spill out into the void. Gather what is undone and weave those loose threads into your own life. Speak them now. To those you love, to the trees, the moon moon, and the sunspun lake.
Seam those unsaid words into your own life as if they were now your most precious gift to the world.
Just because they weren’t said to you doesn’t mean you can’t say them to yourself and others.
My grieving heart fell into these words and soaked them up. Thank you 🙏
The search for belonging continues ❤️