I stand here inside the wait ready for the opening to open, chanting the Psalm of my soul that the echo be heard there in the ether. It is a song of morning birds perched atop branches nestled closely and looking within. That is the space of all things beginning and ending with the quiet. It is the place of my hearing even when nothing is being said. You are a mystery. You are the essence of all things, an energy of renewal and restoration, of listening and allowing, and of cause and effect at the highest vibration. Breathe on me. I want to feel the warmth of heaven against my skin, a reminder that I am held. You hold me, and I am filled to overflow with a light that shines before darkness has its way. How you know in the night what is needed when the sun rises waking sleepers from dreams. I am in awe of you. My gratitude is my tether. It keeps me suspended between faith and manifestation. The way of the rope is the way of revelation, and I walk it, steady-in-step getting closer and closer to the door that is cracked to open.