Distant harmony floats forward, cautious but welcome. Acceptance comes quietly in the space between breaths. Too carefully made plans laid to rest alongside sun-shadowed memories, long since past. Meaning lost and found, left sunbleached and sea-worn on the shore. Weeks and years run together, stand still, lose significance, create their own, future or past. Holding on so tightly only makes you weaker; some things are meant to slip away, never fated to be kept. Cherish them as they are fleeting, then let them go. Accept that losing is an art; hours and days and places and intentions, all meant to be lost. Do not mourn for them; time only moves in one direction; no matter how deeply you dig your heels into the sand, the tide still draws you forward. Paths will always give way to grassy fields and tangled woods eventually, even if they are not the clearings or brambled overgrowths you intended to find. Let eventually become your true North, move toward it, ever slow, but only out of reach for a little longer. You will get there, someday.
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