Succumbing finally, she lets out a loud shriek as her vehicle stops at a red light. __uck._ She hollers cursing the night. Cursing the shadows, cursing the unknown condemned she intends to meet this evening. Tears roll down her cheeks landing on her bullet proof vest.
The crumbling under the __old corpse__he deadness of __ortal separation__he moaning wails of __ourning__he push to __erform rituals__he spectacle of __orrow__he goriness of __rief__ndThe __ercilessness_ of the __erciful__ho knows _ __hat_ and __hy_ Who would ever want to know(Page 34)
A Mother's Cry... A Mother's Celebration
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The crumbling under the __old corpse__he deadness of __ortal separation__he moaning wails of __ourning__he push to __erform rituals__he spectacle of __orrow__he goriness of __rief__ndThe __ercilessness_ of the __erciful__ho knows _ __hat_ and __hy_ Who would ever want to know(Page 34)
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Death abides by no one's rules...it takes what pleases it without consciousness to its decisions. It destroys what it will. It took the pieces of perfection I once knew and shattered them. Now what remains are shards of a dream, drawing blood with every step.
If it is possible to die of grief then why on earth can't someone be healed by happiness?
How is it that from beauty I have derived a type of unloveliness?__rom the covenant of peace a simile of sorrow? But as, in ethics, evil is a consequence of good, so, in fact, out of joy is sorrow born.
It is mercy, not justice or courage or even heroism, that alone can defeat evil.
Ah, cruel fate, how swiftly joy and sorrow alternate!