I Like The Truth, Even When It

Death, Of Course, Should Not Be Feared, But Awaited With Certain Wonder. To Die Was To Step Across A Threshold Into A New World, Unknown, Unimaginable.

All That He Had Of Her Was His Memory, Where He Held Every Moment, Every Single Moment That She Had Been His. That Was All He Had, To Keep Out The Loneliness.

Real Life Is Not Quite As It Is In Stories. In The Old Tales, Bad Things Happen, And When The Tale Has Unfolded And Come To Its Triumphant Conclusion, It Is As If The Bad Things Had Never Been. Life Is Not As Simple As That, Not Quite.

We Draw Our Strength From The Great Oaks Of The Forest. As They Take Their Nourishment From The Soil, And From The Rains That Feed The Soil, So We Find Our Courage In The Pattern Of Living Things Around Us. They Stand Through Storm And Tempest. They Grow And Renew Themselves. Like A Grove Of Young Oaks, We Remain Strong.

I Would Hold On, And Hold On, Until My Hands Clutch At Emptiness.