Can you hear the people sing? All the voices are drowning in the echoes of their sweet refrain. But why don’t you keep asking for peace, so that, when it comes, you’ll have nothing to ask for but thanksgiving?
When the moment is lost to more than the sound of truth, you can only ask for the grace to be patient. It’s no longer a question of who is right and who is wrong – no, instead, it’s a matter of principle, a matter of fact or tact, as the case may be. You can only begin to understand once you’ve swallowed the poisonous lies and spit them out. Wave by wave, the sense crashes upon you in a rhythm that calms your mind.
Shakespeare wrote a hundred plays he didn’t use. No, that’s not right – but who’s to say he didn’t? The thing about truth is that it’s difficult to take in big doses. Only those who can handle a day of turning in bed, sick with the stomach-flu, can begin to acknowledge the process of understanding what’s right.
Oh, say can you see. The wind blows through your hair and you remember the word you were looking for. The word you meant to say so long ago to the one you loved. How did you manage to let him go? The wonderful thing about life is that the ebb and flow never stops – one rises, one falls, and the current drives you forward even in the midst of pain. Stupidly beautiful, in its way.
Then, all that remains is a question you must ask yourself at night, when the lights are low. The question is simple: how do you find the will to live? The answer depends on the state of your heart and the state of your mind. If you’d rather take a different tack and pursue the meaning of other things – you may, and you should, but the heart will not rest until the soul is content with your reply. Content with the knowledge that all you live for is safely tucked away in the deepest corners of your being, impervious to the whims of time and luck and the pain of things getting hard.