We are a fusion of atoms, briefly compressed in form,
matter that moves to the tide of each storm,
a flicker of light, then back to the sea,
where all things merge, formless, free.

Grief is not a prison, nor a chain,

it is a passage, a rite, a necessary flame,

and when it burns through, the heart remains-

not as ashes, but richer to have lived in its name.

“Sorrow prepares you for joy. It violently sweeps everything out of your house, so that new joy can find space to enter. It shakes the yellow leaves from the bough of your heart, so that fresh, green leaves can grow in their place. It pulls up the rotten roots, so that new roots hidden beneath have room to grow. Whatever sorrow shakes from your heart, far better things will take their place.” - Rumi