Lately, I am fragile old silk.
Frayed at the edges, hopelessly tattered.
Crushed beneath a chafing blanket of onyx woolen sky.
Yet every time the blackness threatens to unravel me, stars appear.
Points of wondrous light that I can pluck from the jagged gloom, and endow with gratitude.
Illuminating a brighter side.
Too many to count, I’m reminded.
Stitched into the fabric of my delicately woven life.
Picture credit here.