Some kinds of mending
take place slowly, small pieces
lost for generations
fitting softly into place,
a silent shifting as the frame solidifies,
a quiet sparkling where
one plane of integrity
has been restored

Some healing happens indirectly,
the steady love unfailingly applied
serving to melt a hardness
hidden in some distant corner,
unknown until the wave of freedom
washes through and something moves
that before was frozen

Some healing appears suddenly
when all the inner matrices
have finally aligned
and the light floods
through the whole being,
through the whole history,
across the whole landscape,
across all time.