One can readily see the “Big Picture” as though peering through a sparsely lit colored glass. Colors and images of things that have weight are rarely seen as if it were possible to know there value. Inertia and constraints that must move these portions, as moments yield to the passing of something never as yet been seen by the display of passion felt by the minuet of things to come.

From the afar there seems to be a gentle cry. Bound in the confinements it’s unclear as to the message being uttered. This place has fetters that will lesson progress to perceive the one that cries. Yielding finds comfort as newness proceeds through this chaos that follows. Where in lies this voice so faint. As motion becomes static there’s a quite moment to hear from this, gallows of small. Crevices tighten as the nightfall fights back against the light.

Things that are smaller come into the darkness without a sense of place, wondering about the others as if nothing has been shared. Assurance is absent as this dance leads on. As still to only to listen nothing is heard, because of this matter that baffles to well. The need to hear causes a war within, to press against the night, and view what's never been clear grows so dim.

Though small we may be our promise is great. Although we are broken and bruised the beauty that’s awakened can heal us all. Reach out to the small and give an embrace, and see the great wonders of life that takes place. I bid you hold my hand, as our journey unfolds, as we declare with one voice that in this place we have hope, to touch is our choice with one message of hope.

Let us take our hearts, and sing much louder for all small to hear. When a little one breaks we’ll always be there.

In this moment as I reach out to you, press forward into this night, and touch someone too.