|"(...)I will find out where she has gone,|
|And kiss her lips and take her hands;|
|And walk among long dappled grass,|
|And pluck till time and times are done,|
|The silver apples of the moon,|
|The golden apples of the sun."|
W.B. Yeats, "Song of wandering Aengus", complete text here.
For some time I have been wanting to meditate every day about what I have learnt that very day but haven't been doing it due to my procastinative condition. But what I have learnt today is that even though sharing your grief is hard, it is totally worth it.