This has been a week of tragedies and miracles.
Both so intense and all consuming it is kind of hard to fully understand them.
Those of a religious bent will find a reason to continue to believe, those who are not will find more reason not to believe.
There really is no right answer to all this.
It just is.
Once we arrived naked and squalling life, our lives are full of comings and goings of others until we leave just as naked but perhaps not as loud.
What lays after no one knows but many care about.
We may have had a peek over that hilly Bourne where no one returns last fall. But for the life of us we cannot remember except for the simple feeling that we were loved and cared about.
And then we came back.
Perhaps that feeling was all that was needed and perhaps to stay in this world we all need to feel loved and cared about.
They are threads of a tapestry that entwines us all.
Not only for the here and now but also for the past and the future.
If we could look upon this weaving we would surely be astounded at all that came before us and all that will come after.
And so the Fates weave, tirelessly and without complaint.
Once they were believed in venerated and feared.
Not any more.
But still it is a beautiful work.
And perhaps that is why they continue, for beauty’s sake.
And for beauty’s sake we all should continue until our threads run out on their own.