"Who makes much of a miracle?
As to me, I know of nothing else but miracles...
To me, every hour of the light and dark is a miracle,
Every cubic inch of space is a miracle,
Every square yard of the surface of the earth is spread with the same;
Every spear of glass -
the frames, limbs, organs of men and women and all that concerns them,
All these to me are unspeakably perfect miracles."
- Walt Whitman (and thanks to Ken Lauher for posting)
I'd like to think I could add on to this concept, but rather... my desire is to honor this, to hold on, to embrace it and let it run through me again and again, that its essence may fill me with gratitude and the childlike innocence that works to keep every day aware of the magic.
