I didn’t read this as a beginning. I felt it as a remembering.
Not something that started… but something that was already moving before I knew how to see it.
In the beginning, I stood in the stillness… And I whispered, Let there be light, but it wasn’t new. It was a memory.
The waters were one… The firmament wasn’t to divide. It was to reflect.
I watched the waters draw back like breath… Now it only needed to sprout.
The sun stepped into the center… To say: this moment is sacred.
The sea birthed movement… Every fin, every feather—part of the great spiral hymn.
The earth exhaled lions and ants… I was given kinship.
And so, it rested… The space between beats.
This is not the story of a king. It’s the story of a spiral—and a remembering.
The Space
Not a storefront.
Not a schedule.
Just something you return to
when it calls you back.
Reach
g.lynn.sharp@gmail.com
Available when needed.
Not always online.
© Rabbit’s Warren “All things made with intention”
“No gatekeepers. Just paths.”