This tiny seed, that tender root, with no power in itself transforms through grace into glorious bloom at just the appointed moment, making the place which once was dormant and empty now full of life.

Looking upon a horizon takes us someplace inwardly through memory or anticipation: both constructs of linear time. The "edge of today" suggests that the threshold between two states of being can be timeless. A sun setting in one place is a rising sun somewhere else on the edge of today.

When there are less elements, it is like less noise in life. The space is quieter. What we find there is more amplified. And exposed. There is no place to hide.

It's easy to look out onto the surface and form an impression. How often do we consider surface qualities are impressions formed by what lies inwardly and underneath?