It is wisdom that remains. It can race in at high or drift in at low. Crashing and disruptive. Or. Subtle, little by little.
It is wisdom that’s revealed. It is often quiet and disarming. There is peace within without needing from the other. There is love to carry on without receiving it from the other. There is space. There is holding. And there is nothing left to forgive. This is the freedom. Releasing oneself to sea, not attempting to change or manipulate such dealings. There is no sense trying to better the past. But we do. Playing out memories. Perhaps that’s what some can be kept by, experiences on repeat as if an outcome can change. One fighting against oneself, the ultimate suffering.
Sign your rights to past dealings or forge your bond with present wisdom. It can change in a moment. Some say time heals, time that of which kept by one moment. You have the power to change. You have the power to heal. You have the power to love. That is the wisdom. Story holds no power without wisdom. We can connect by story, but we begin again through wisdom. Begin again. This moment. And the next. Begin again.