A brief glimpse...
It seems but a short time ago he was brought to life, by the will of gods and angels, by the graces of sacrifice, by the strength of love.
Now this is his home as much as anywhere. A man sits in the grass outside with a young child seated before him. She will be a year old in one month.
She is precious.
She is memory.
They laugh, and breathe, and feel the early autumn air, the breeze over the lake as the leaves begin to turn. There is life here, that cannot die. They are precious, they and their loves.
They walk today in memory of the ones who no longer can.
Look how far we've come, my precious. How far can we go now? Look how much we've done, love. How much can we do? What stories can we make? What will we remember as the tides of the years turn and roll over our footsteps?
Memento Mori
Now this is his home as much as anywhere. A man sits in the grass outside with a young child seated before him. She will be a year old in one month.
She is precious.
She is memory.
They laugh, and breathe, and feel the early autumn air, the breeze over the lake as the leaves begin to turn. There is life here, that cannot die. They are precious, they and their loves.
They walk today in memory of the ones who no longer can.
Look how far we've come, my precious. How far can we go now? Look how much we've done, love. How much can we do? What stories can we make? What will we remember as the tides of the years turn and roll over our footsteps?
Memento Mori