What is life but a slow surrender...
The Irish isles do not speak to me with her blanket of grey gloom upon her waters, reflecting the eyes of her beholden villagers, but they sure do sing, in a voice haunting and clear.
Ondine (ahn-deen) is a Selkie, a creature of the sea who if she cries seven tears upon land can never return. The tears can be of joy or pain, they all count in the end. A fallen tear cannot be undone.
Sometimes, the myth of life is more true than the facts of life.
I tire of the world and the weariness of wondering. Heavy are the truths I know but cannot speak. Truth is but the gateway of love.
Unexpected hope comes in a fisherman's net but grappling hooks of the past reach out to tear it away. And old demons rush to whisper in the ear, "Hope is not meant for you."
But the tears have fallen and the commitment made, wedding her forever to happiness or despair.
What is life but a slow surrender...to love or to hate.
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