Life seems fragile, then harsh and rugged. Does life happen or does it do something to the living or is it a product of the living? Thoughts ruminate in my head, wearily trying to decipher its meaning. Maybe we just learn a lesson and that’s the reason or excuse for God’s mystery.
I wonder if robin redbreasts go to the robin graveyard similarly to elephants. Drone like journeys, flutterances of sadness and purpose to a resting place of pyramidal bones. Maybe, or perhaps they just drop suddenly to be consumed by nature, the maternal mystery.
Robin redbreast eternal, mysterious and wonderful, may you forever symbolise vibrancy and joy in living one day at a time.
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