Feelings of great loss, burdens and grief. As though all around you are the ruins of a great civilisation, now broken to pieces, and it is only you left, the last survivor, alone, desolate, isolate. Knowing that you carry the weight of your entire history, needing to go on to continue its legacy, but not knowing how to.
You gave me hyacinths first a year ago;
They called me the hyacinth girl.
Yet when we came back, late, from the Hyacinth garden,
Your arms full, and your hair wet, I could not
Speak, and my eyes failed, I was neither
Living nor dead, and I knew nothing,
Looking into the heart of light, the silence.