of a young former colleague. She left a happy life: family and friends, a good education and a good job. Smiling and active just days ago, now gone.
This was a life then. This, the whole thing. Was here, now gone. Does the hole she left harden like cement, or fill in slowly like nearly frozen mud? Does the hole stay empty, a vacuum, or does someday a seed drop in and grow? See the emptiness, be the emptiness, be vast, be the wind and the seed and the sun and the flower.
