Dancing the sorrows

There is an emptiness and hollowness which is felt when love is lost. Sometimes this is felt before the physical relationship has ended other times after. A yearning sets in that cannot be contented, where grief has set up home for a while.

Grief is my current housemate, as I sit by the smoldering fire which grief has so kindly kindled. I long for easier days yet I know that I must host my guest with the utmost grace and humbleness, honoring her and the noble work that she is obliged to provide… the work of cold and lonely days and nights… the work of tears and heartache… the work of forgetting and remembering.

Looking back is little comfort, as if holding on to a skeleton of one’s lost lover- gone are the comforts of soft caressing, only left are the sharp edges and hard endings and crying over the sacredness of remaining bones.

This work is Holy work, wholly inscribed in the human destiny… work which hones and strangely, allows for even greater depths of future love~

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