Sometimes the best beginning
\nis an ending.
\nWhere a road stops at a precipice.
\nWhere there is nothing but ashes
\nand the unmarred picture
\nof a child and a blackened ring.
\nAn empty web at the end of autumn.<\/p>\n
So the widow putting away
\nthe possessions of a spouse,
\nwondering what use the years ahead,
\nwithout the center of her soul.
\nWinter comes on like that,
\nwhen all the leaves are gone.
\nIt is not the end,
\nbut the hard time ahead
\ntoo dark to stir or bear.<\/p>\n
The story is not complete.
\nSpring will come by one day
\nand kiss her face,
\nbitter sweet with warmth.
\nAnd her heart will break
\nall over again,
\nand she will stare at herself in windows,
\nand refuse to return home.<\/p>\n
She will walk the streets,
\nuntil the ceremony of her love can pass,
\nand the unconscious sky
\nreach to her,
\nand ask for her heart.
\nAnd fortunate perhaps,
\nhope is kindled!
\nHer thirst returns,
\nand who knows
\nwhat will come her way tomorrow?
\nI know such a one.<\/p>\n","protected":false},"excerpt":{"rendered":"
Sometimes the best beginning is an ending. Where a road stops at a precipice. Where there is nothing but ashes and the unmarred picture of…<\/p>\n