Compassion crowns the soul with its truest victory.

Love, Mercy, and Grace, sisters all, attend your wounds of silence and hope.

Un-winged and naked, sorrow surrenders its crown to a throne called grace.

It does not manifest so that you can believe in it. You believe in it so that it can manifest.

This is what our love is––a sacred pattern of unbroken unity sewn flawlessly invisible inside all other images, thoughts, smells, and sounds.

Your pain is a school unto itself–– and your joy a lovely temple.