Emptiness
There is nothing more terrible, and more truthful than a mother weeping for her stillborn child. Words absolutely fail to convey anything of the meaning of the experience. One observes and understands nothing of what is happening.
To weep is a natural, appropriate response to death, the passage of something or someone who is loved. Everything returns in due time to it’s origin. Or as the chaplain put it: to the earth, the wind, to water, and to fire.
To live is to love. If one loves, learns how to love, there is going to be pain. The greater the love, the greater the pain, — in direct proportion. To love is to let go in due time. We are not compelled to love. There are those who live without love, They are the walking dead, neither alive, and not yet dead. A refusal to feel pain is a refusal to love and be loved.
Its one and the same.
I like this song, it’s dirge like quality.
