From the ramblings of a life that's messy, in a beautiful, tangled way.
Love was never going to be easy.
Not a real love. That's something grown from invisible seeds, rooted in the inconceivable and incomprehensible before awareness can kill it. Suddenly there, to be felt.
Thrown, tempered, fired, cracked, seen...repaired, with dedication, refired, lovingly cared for.
An open heart, open to everything.
Open to the warmth, the exquisite.
Open, with the knowledge that the cold winds of loss can blow at any time.
Open, willing to feel, to share, everything. Good, bad.
Joy.
Pain.
Because she knows that the pain of loss can only come after the birth and life of something beautiful, rare. And in the wisdom of a goddess, she has learned that growth needs deeply ploughed and turned furrows...
that the experience of a real love is worth anything, everything, else.
Life will continue on.
Without his physical presence.
He'll always live, in some way, in her very self.
Part of her growth, her depth, her future joy.
Her forever sadness.
The mess knows what a beautiful piece of her soul will be born there.
Because he was.
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