tintern abbey

The ancient abbey can be seen from my window as I write these words from
Wales. The sun ls peering through its windows as if deciding whether to show itself while the cows and clouds are already playing in the field or sky.
Any moment I expect to see monks walking through the field–but they have been long gone and I sit here still pondering their whereabouts and knowing mine.

And what they whisper to me are words to heed: ‘live now my friend while you still have breath.’

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Filed under Celtic, Death

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