#wenzal

[iambadco]

[onlyhatredleft]

Enduring Souls

{{Left on the kitchen table, with his favorite breakfast, even though she was supposed to have left last night for her honeymoon.}} In myth and religion the world over, the journey of the soul is one of the most arduous and magical of all. Like Psyche before she gained her status of a Goddess, the soul must endure many labors. There are times it wants to quit. Times it wants to turn back to the familiar and easy. But as the caterpillar metamorphosizes into a butterfly safe and sound inside it’s chrysalis, so does the soul. Hurt, pain, sadness and anger plague and torture; but peace, serenity, and strength will always come. And though our wings may be clipped, or bodies die and wither away, the soul endures. It is the soul that remains with those left behind. The soul is truly eternal and keeps us alive after death. Look to Psyche, to the butterfly, in times of doubt and weakness. Look and remember that the labor cannot last forever. As long as there is truth, strength, and love to be found, it will be alright. The soul will endure all, even death. Wendy 

He leaned against the kitchen doorway, already squinting at a sheaf of legal documents in the murky morning light. A lot of work had been shoved aside during the weeks preceding Wen's wedding and while everyone at the office was understanding, he hated to let personal matters affect his business affairs in the slightest.

His eyes flicked up. Did he forget to clear the table before he went out yesterday? Walking up to it, he quickly detected the folded piece of paper that had been slipped under his customary bowl of rice porridge. Placed beside it was a plate of steamed vegetables and pan-fried tofu, which was Wen's silent but firm reminder that he needed to eat a balanced breakfast. Itzal's eyes were misty even before he pulled up the note with shaky fingers.

His soul wasn't so strong. It was battered, full of gaping holes and cracks and parts clumsily mended. But wasn't there a kind of peace in him now? Was it not a painful, bittersweet kind of serenity that allowed him to set the note down with a soft smile and sit down to eat the meal prepared by his best friend's hands? Perhaps even as he was crying, he was healing.