The spandrils of magic that weave or fragile control into a tapestry of life and Godly amusement are embelished in knots. Little knots hiding in the fabric. Tangled knots making a gnarled mess for anyone with the heartwill to fight them. Tight knots of indestructible build. Loose knots that can be unweaved. Those knots are what I write about.
The birds continued to sing and I finally heard them...among them my heart rested in downy feathers. It is possible to be free and completely captured.
