Mist shows the way.

Mist and tears.

Running streams and flinted brooks prism the energy of light into a million fragments of piercing glimpses.

Glimpses of times gone by and times to come.

On the vast oceanic booms of sound echoed through the cavernous universe, wisps of stray timbres gleam in the darkness through the veils of mist.

Glimpses and timbres entwine in a delicate embrace, so light and fragile such that the faintest whisper of breath will vanish them in an instant.

This gossamer dance of ethereal elements weaves into a thread of merged energies and is carried on through the breath of nature into the loom of a mother's heart.

Here, stitch by stitch and row by row, a magic garment is fashioned according to the pattern of a Master Craftsman.

Here, detail by minute detail, the translucent strands of light and sound are webbed into the microcosmic blueprint of life.

And with endless patience of conscious and subconscious labour a soul is given a new home.

How can we honour this selfless act of love?

How can we even begin to appreciate the skill, the depth of genius, that goes into the weaving of this cloth?

From where does this inherent perfection come, unlearned and unpracticed and uninstructed?

How can we even begin to wonder at this incredible gift blatantly displayed before us and yet so hidden by the prolific factual evidence intensely paraded before our consciousness?

Indeed, in the heartbeat of a mother the intensity of creation is magnified into the manifestation of life.

In the earth of her blood we are encompassed and encased.

And we grow, nurtured and fed by the living, pulsating intelligence of her own being.

Such is the world we know.

An incomprehensible miracle of innate wisdom, that by its very obviousness tries to delude us into believing it is an ordinary everyday thing.

We get sucked into the taking-for-granted of it all by our very own familiarity with existing.

Mothers come to remind us of our dependence on forces way beyond our own frail grasp.

Mothers are here to reflect to us that we hold our own gifts, needing no tuition, but by their very nature perfect and exquisite and effortless.

And they come to remind us that with only love and a heartbeat we can be so much more than that which we think we are.

And they come to give us, in the manifestation of life, the opportunity to experience the richness of our own being.