Chapter 1 · The Call to See

The Song of Grace

Cristina do Valle Mirrors of the Infinite

Let the river move your bones, let the boulders roll away. Unclench the jaw, and sigh awhile, as mountains rest, as fountains play. Compassion hums; a hidden stream, a song inside a higher dream, a waterfall of whispered truth, that slows the breath, and softens you. Rest now, love, and let it rain. The answers fall like morning light, as sure as dawn, as clear as pain, as pure as you have always been, as unharmed as you remain. The tide will take you where you’re led, though choices bend and paths misthread. Still love runs deep, and love will find, the hollow places, that dot the mind.

Reflection

This poem came like a lullaby; soft, patient, insistent in its gentleness. I remember the exact moment these words came to me; I had been carrying tension like armor, jaw tight, heart heavy, trying to “do” my way into peace. The message was clear: let go. Rest. Trust the tide.

I cried while writing The Song of Grace. It wasn’t sadness, it was release. I realized how hard I had been on myself, even in spiritual work. I thought I had to earn stillness, to deserve healing, to be “ready” for love. The poem reminded me that compassion is not something we ascend to; it’s the water we already float in. We are carried whether we know it or not.

This piece dissolved my obsession with “getting it right.” It reminded me that grace is not given as a reward; it’s the fabric of existence itself. Rest is not indulgence; it is remembrance.

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