Aye, such is the strange alchemy of mortal days: what once seemed full as summer’s golden field may, in the turning of Time’s silent wheel, echo with the emptiness of winter’s hall.
Yet mark this well hollowness is not always loss. Oft it is but the chamber wherein the soul heareth its own true voice for the first time.
For the cup must sometimes be emptied ere it can receive the wine of deeper wisdom.
Sikiladi 
Aye, such is the strange alchemy of mortal days: what once seemed full as summer’s golden field may, in the turning of Time’s silent wheel, echo with the emptiness of winter’s hall.
Yet mark this well hollowness is not always loss. Oft it is but the chamber wherein the soul heareth its own true voice for the first time.
For the cup must sometimes be emptied ere it can receive the wine of deeper wisdom.
LikeLike