Twilight painted the sky as tears streamed down my face, as seven weeks later my throat is still choking with grief. The lone swan, gracefully gliding on the water, mirroring my own aching heart. Beneath the weeping willow, the geese and swans, nestled together, preened their feathers, an unintentional reminder of the warmth and comfort of family.
A golden path, straight as an arrow, called me into the unknown. Each step echoed with the questions that swirled within my wounded soul. The questions, the doubts, and always the questions. Yet, amidst the long grasses, and weeds, a single purple Lady’s Glove dared to bloom, its petals glistening with raindrops, my tears—beauty in the face of unimaginable pain.
The horizon darkened, revealing a long huddle of trees standing tall against the gathering storm, reflecting my own determination to persevere. Their resilience with promises of healing and quietness.
This was more than just a walk. It was a journey of the soul, a dance with the elements, and a gentle reminder that in the darkest of nights, love always finds a way to bloom.
Thought for the day: In every step and every tear, we find the strength to carry on and discover new paths to healing.
