it might feel like what I do doesn’t matter

Especially if it’s not flashy or glamorous or on the internet

But there are threads of life pulsing and shimmering around me

Each action or inaction

Each loving gesture

Each kind thought

Each tiny triumph

Are a weaving of these threads

They do not go unnoticed

They ripple out and back to me in mysterious ways

Unseen eyes take note and offer their support

What is the nature of my daily weaving?

Whose support am I calling in?

And what happens when we weave together?