In the night of death, hope sees a star, and listening love can hear the rustle of a wing- Robert Ingersoll
Love is uncontrollable. It is tempting and seductive. It is rich and bleeding. It is outwardly strong, and inwardly fragile. It rises up to meet you and retreats just as quickly. It challenges the known and tempts the unknown. It is everything and it is nothing. For when it is gone it's like it had never even been there.
You have a world which you have built and now there is no world at all. You've had a conviction and in turn come to find it was empty. More than the pieces are lost. The whole never even was.
Is there really healing in pain? Or is it something we just tell ourselves to help move us on? Does it really move us forward? Do spinning wheels count as moving? Does pain propose treatment in another way? Does it ever get easier? Does it dissipate or does it just get different?