After all is said and done...
You know the feeling, the slight tingling in your bones, your thoughts frozen, of an ache to press the undo button, to rewind the reel of experience, as if it's a cassette you saved to revisit, and snip off wrong turns, wrong interpretations, and wrong investment of your devotion.
Rivers never return to their old courses. Trees do not reclaim the leaves they have shed. Words, once spoken, can never be taken back.
Yet they always find the sea. Yet each spring they will bloom again. Yet the silence that follows holds expiation.
The order of disorder obeys the Universe, not the mere human desire or the comforts of our belief. With impartial tenderness, it will sit beside you in your despair, impervious to your heart's pleas and plans, quietly making attempts to pull you out from the enchanted loom of illusion birthed by the fragility of your mind.
In the disquiet of obeyance, something softer begins to take shape: in understanding lightness of the light and despair of the dark; in learning to find hope in the spring and to surrender in the fall; realizing the edges are not the only thresholds.
With all the light a heart can hold, enkindling a knowing that every ending is the beginning of something else.
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