A story: I share this now as an old woman with a spark of wisdom for a young soul. There may be a wound that cannot be seen. Blanketed in the comfort of my shadows it found rest. For I tucked it in with covered thoughts, and memories many layers. Saying “Sleep my wound, rest until the warmth of my attention and care return to you. For what you ask of me is a task that not I can do alone, so help shall I find.” Alas, time laid many blankets and only a faint call from deep deep beneath rang “I am Alive” One day the suns embrace found my Wound. I heard that soft soft voice and truth spoke to me. From my soul it had fled for denial and banishment was its true affliction and of my source it has and will always be. So reaching deep deep within I responded. “I am hear for you, and need not you rest, shant you hide neath folds of past. My life wishes and yearns you take part. For without you I have never felt whole and with you I will truly live again.” The help had come and from my source alone. There had been a wound I could not see.