My Prayer Flags are tattered. Many prayers have been sent upon them; kissed and captured by the wind and sent on......... to their destination, to be loved, to be lost - to be granted, perhaps promised for another time. I, we, still wake up to the moment and live in rapture of each individual succarance of breath. Breathe in each succulent breath, devour each drip of nurturance. Prayer upon prayer, second upon second - we each enter the day.
