Bang the drum for our sons and daughters, for husbands and wives, mothers and friends. Shout death’s name to a clueless world. Bang the drum loudly! Love in grief has a powerful rhythm. Bang the drum with courage and strength! Bang it loud filled with compassion! Bang the drum proudly!
It seems that she doesn't even need to complete a circle, as you wrote in your journal days before India. Unlike the tree Love travels back at each moment to her original form. To a primal time before the transformation she underwent to be a tool or a symbol of human passion.
I could tell you that I get scared sometimes that I’ll never find what I’m looking for. That maybe I live in a magical land within my mind, dreaming up someone who doesn’t even exist. That maybe my standards are too high and my inner romantic is too hopeless and all of the days I’ve spent with ...