I see brokenness in the sea glass, bits of shells, and clay shards washed upon the beach. It's the broken tops of trees anchored to the island and mountain tops on the horizon. It's the wind torn sea as waves break upon the shore. Like the blanket of fog I wrap the quilt of solitude around me and ask is the gift of brokenness tenderness? Is it strength like mountains and breaking waves and the beauty of sunlight on sea glass? What else could be the purpose of loss, heartbreak and sorrow?
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