The quiet, singing voice of the rose.
The steady hand kept her present in the moment. Although she felt no magic, Hadama somehow pushed away the encroaching darkness enough for her to grasp at what little comfort she could find in the world. The warmth of his hand. The shared emotions. The kindness in his voice. The clear breath being pulled into her lungs. The beat of her heart. She clutched them like pearls, hoping to make them worth something. Like their value might somehow transfer to her.
His final commanding word captivated her attention, the tears in her eyes tipping to fall down her cheek as she asked softly, "To what end?" Deep down, she knew that he had no more of an answer than she did. That was the point of life, right? You never knew where it would take you? Yet the question still plagued her. What was she supposed to do? Where was she supposed to go? Who was she supposed to be? She felt lost in both life and purpose.
It all seemed to stem from the pain of losing her friend and the guilt that came with it. She thought she'd made it to the 'acceptance' stage of grief, but apparently she'd just buried the emotions, letting them fester and ignoring the effect they were having on her thoughts. Now they left her flailing in the chaos. Like a compass with no needle, drifting in a storm. It seemed like Hadama was the only one who could weather the tempest.
His final commanding word captivated her attention, the tears in her eyes tipping to fall down her cheek as she asked softly, "To what end?" Deep down, she knew that he had no more of an answer than she did. That was the point of life, right? You never knew where it would take you? Yet the question still plagued her. What was she supposed to do? Where was she supposed to go? Who was she supposed to be? She felt lost in both life and purpose.
It all seemed to stem from the pain of losing her friend and the guilt that came with it. She thought she'd made it to the 'acceptance' stage of grief, but apparently she'd just buried the emotions, letting them fester and ignoring the effect they were having on her thoughts. Now they left her flailing in the chaos. Like a compass with no needle, drifting in a storm. It seemed like Hadama was the only one who could weather the tempest.
The song that promised all might be well,
all might be well,
that all manner of things might be well.
all might be well,
that all manner of things might be well.
Thalassa
