In a blink’s soft hush, ,time stacks upon time; the world keeps turning, never pausing on a dime. What rises like breath will settle like rain ,and all that was lost remembers its name. So don’t fear the falling of long-woven truths; leaves drop their stories to green tender shoots. Now is the hour to sketch out the new —by moon-drift and morning, let wonder lead you. Come one, come all, you laborers of Love —Empathic kinfolk, Nature’s beloved. Come Artists and Healers with s