This comfort beckons, repeating itself from memory, a reverberating peace—solace of stones in thin water, hunched like the spines of sheep, the water whispering a perfect circle drawn by God. I am fearfully & wonderfully made, formed within the flock & guided through pastures & roughly hewn hills where gentle winds glide me along heavenly currents beside the expansive green canopies He folds over me at night. & when I’ve fallen into the smoothness of the stream, I can feel a rock resonating with my bones—the wind sculpting the rock cupping the water escaping as wind—movement & stillness in the same body. A million exhales rise from within me & travel outward & forward into a grace flooding the ruins of my heart, all the wounded, desolate places searched out, filled with light—restored by His voice until new strength comes & weariness has passed. His path is a supple bolt of cloth, shaken & rolled out, laying itself down in a new way across the hills I climb without knowing what’s on the other side. & it is in the valley I grow; full-throated & roaring, I curl around the low woods, climb into the white mist & rock where slanting rays of sun fall, forming a belt of brightness until the shadows become white light & I readjust my steps along the radiate flow. Surrounded & enfolded, a fire breathes in the space between my ribs simply because He is there. I melt into another world, a realm of strength already within me, & I change—I soften with joy, stand there in His path, see my feet in the fold. The sun glistens on the vines that twine & open at the edge of the ravine, & I sing before the ceaseless swell & fall of sunlight on the hills, watch the way brilliance turns on darkness forever.