The cup that overflowed lies on its side - empty. The great bounty of the beautiful, living earth becomes distant, untouchable. The heart succumbs to the sadness of loss. Grief. Almost unbearable. The moment of complete aloneness. It seems that Death will have its way. What remains in that desolation? What opens to the way of the heart? What certainty holds the centre? An abiding stillness. The caress of feathers so light we forget they have never left. Not even for an instant. Not even in the time of our impenetrable darkness.
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