“A branch, broken and split, dangling year after year, clicking its song to the wind. With neither leaves nor bark, bear, wan, worn out by a long life and a long death. Its song echoes, cracking and persistent. Stubbornly, it resounds with secret anguish. For yet another summer. Yet another winter.”
We demand a life should have meaning. But life has precisely the meaning that we wish to bestow on it. Life acquires meaning only through love. The more we are capable of love and dedication, the more our lives will be rich with meaning.