Grace is a mountain with a woman’s face. She does not speak, but from her essence radiates music, deep, clear, and soulful. The melody is never the same, never repeating. Grace does not sleep. She carries the harsh weight of the world always, and she tires. At night, she looks up, and basks in the ebon and the silver and the white rays of celestial light. In the day, she looks down upon the green woods and fields that lay before and around her in a warm blanket, bathed in gold. In this way, she is replenished. Grace’s job is to be a foundation, the foundation, for the Earth. Her music is present at birth, at death, and forgiveness. Grace is loved. She is valued. She is not always recognized as she should.