XIII | MORS from TRIONFI by ANAZANAUT
All that is born is book-ended by its corresponding death. All growth finds its fertile soil in the demise and decay of what has come before. A death is as much a beginning as a birth, though the tendency to cling to the past can obscure the benefits of such transitions. Endings are inevitable, yet they are rarely welcome, unless they bring the termination of sorrow. Grieve for what has gone, but do not dwell too long in that house of sorrow, for you shall lose out on all the new wonders that await your return to the living.
Walking with the broken rocks upon the heaving thrust of mountain echoes, movement becomes challenged. Something may have taken hold here, but its residue has since faded into the dust of winds long blown away. Though memory shards crack and splinter through the ice age history once foretold, there are now no more than fragments upon a beach receding beyond the breaking waves.