She knew times when everything seemed black, when hope had been lost and there appeared to be no more steps on the path. She couldn't see that behind it all life was shining, and that all those who had already stopped walking were screaming to her to 'hang on' - because, out of pain, beauty could grow, roses springing from manure. He told her that saying goodbye would just leave a hole so huge that only darkness could fill it, and that, even the tiniest glimmer of goodness contained seeds that must be watered and nourished. He begged her to grow roses, thorns and all. She listened and she understood.
4 comments:
Looks like we've both been writing about goodbyes lately... what a beautiful piece, Singer--so, so lovely. Thank you.
Thank you :) I really appreciate you stopping by and your kind words. It is good to see you here.
I understand this place, I visit sometimes but I usually prick my finger on one of those thorns and determine how much I like the fragrance of life even when it stinks. You are a golden writer Singer.
Val, I love that... "I visit sometimes but I usually prick my finger on one of those thorns and determine how much I like the fragrance of life even when it stinks." ;)
Thanks for your kind words Val, I am so glad to have 'connected' to you through the vast multiverse that is cyberspace. Distance, time, space don't count for so much when you can feel a person through the words they write and on some deeper level recognise a kindred spirit when they touch your life. Thank you.
It is always good to hear from you. x
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