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What was dark will always be dark, I know that. Death is still death. Hatred will never be far, in this life.But also, there is light. It is everywhere. It floods this world–the world brims with it. Once, I sat by the Coe and watched a shaft of light come down through the trees, through leaves, and wondered if there was a greater beauty, or a simpler one. There are many great beauties. but all of them–from the snow, to his fern-red hair, to my mare’s eye reflecting the sky as she smelt the air of Rannoch Moor–have light in them, and are worth it. They are worth the darker parts.
