The relief that loss is true,
Honest and natural,
Needs to be excercised in the moment,
Expressed as a thing.
To be still and at peace in the face of passing,
Knowing it could happen again but not recreating it,
Like questioning that putting the clocks back gains an hour
And forward loses one.
It is not a formula that has to be rehearsed,
It is a fact,
And the light of the sky bares witness.
While old woman take their pearls off at night for a quiet life.
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