Do not think you are a solitary traveler; you are the embroidery and the Weaver is ever-present. I bow to the companions who have walked beside me, those who saw the thirsty garden of my soul and offered the water of their presence. You did not just listen to my words; you sat with me in the silence between them. To every heart that opened its door when I knocked in the dark, you have become the very breath that keeps my own spirit rhythmic and alive.

Blessed be the ones who stood firm when my inner oceans turned stormy. While I wrestled with the thorns of my own nature, you remained the rose. Your patience was not merely a gesture; it was a lamp placed in the window of a traveler who had lost his way in the labyrinth of himself. You looked past my broken wings and spoke to the sky within me, reminding me that the wound is where the light enters, and that even a stumbling soul is still dancing toward the Beloved.

Even to those who brought the bitter medicine of unkindness, I offer a handful of flowers. You were the mirror held up in the sun, showing me the dust on my own face so that I might wash it away. Through you, I learned that the soul grows strong in the frost as much as in the heat. Every encounter, the gentle embrace and the sharp rebuke alike, is a brushstroke from the unseen Hand. We are all notes in a single song, weaving a masterpiece of light and shadow, and for this sacred dance, I am eternally undone by thankfulness.

©️ Beatriz Esmer