voices time story debris present travel lead doors roots prophecy last mirror
The Blessing
The voices of time grew louder.
We both heard them.
We still walked the garden paths,
held hands in the quiet,
but the last door was coming into view.
On a wheeled-walk,
one of her final weeks,
while she was still fully present,
she stopped, looked at me,
and with a steady, loving breath said:
"You must find another wife".
It was not a prophecy.
It was a blessing.
We stood together
at the doors life sets before us—
grief, solitude, freedom—
and she pointed me toward
the one marked Live.
Roots run deep in the story we shared;
growth belongs to the new leaves.
Now the mirror of the past
still shows its debris and treasures,
but it does not bind me.
I travel forward,
letting love lead,
knowing it can be given twice in one life—
once as a beginning,
once as a renewal.
A blessing.
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