When did I begin to notice birdsong?
Or pause in quiet wonder as a tender seedling lifts itself from the dark earth into the light?
Now the beauty of nature can suddenly bring tears to my eyes.
Perhaps it is because, with age, one has witnessed so much sorrow and heartache that the spirit itself becomes softened and worn thin by life.
Beaten and hammered on both sides until it grows almost translucent.
So delicate that even the song of a bird can pass straight through it and touch the very core of the soul.
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