i’m sorry that i so often take the big things into my tiny hands and cry from having them so full my arms get tired and all sorts slip through my fingers from trying to grasp hold of this and that and the other when each of them is so much happier being held by you in hands that encompass land and sea and sky and the hearts of billions from beginning until end.
when i remember what tiny hands were made for it’s easier to try and fill them with nothing but your words which ooze like sweet honeycomb into my palms for me to eat and crumble to the ground at my feet to light my path and fill me from top to bottom so that my eyes can see and my soul can sing and my arms can at last let go and rest.
all that is required then is to watch and wait, because you will not give me a stone and you will not give me a snake, and all the big that tiny could not carry will be ok.
