Dead Man Walking
There is a time for words, and a time for silence. A time to reflect, to dissect and understand, and a time just to stand and look. To behold.
Later comes the thankfulness, the future and the promise. Thankfulness for this bruised reed not broken, this smouldering wick not snuffed out; that our fragile hopes have not been crushed, that we are still standing when the lights come back on.
But first, there is a time just to stand and look.