You posted this about two minutes after I felt led to post in the Gathering Place, and I have no doubt why now.
This is very true, but one of the worst things any of us can do is believe that our current circumstances are permanent. Nothing is. Not even the pain of goodbyes. xo
And what happens when the new beginnings just are not there, not realistic, no longer possible, when all possibilities have unraveled leaving just--what?
80 in 47 days
To answer my own question, what seems to be left is another poem. The next one. And the books I have yet to read, appreciations I have yet to utter.
I am grateful for you. Let me utter that. And soon perhaps a poem. Big hug, Precious Child.