let nothing grieve you beyond measure.....

This is for me.
Which makes it also for you.

Here they are, but never exactly like I left them, here it is, but not quite like we left it. Who were we? How is it that whatever that was, is no more? The truth is veiled, barely perceptible, a glimpse of light on a strand of hair of a goddess we imagine tantalizing and generous.
Who was the blurred dancing woman who left?
I want to say this: I do not like the person I must be here. But that is a half-truth whispered in an echoed cave.
The truth is.......it is.....a slippery fish.
It is time to leave the palace teeming with priestesses and libations.

One of them says.....let nothing grieve you beyond measure, for life is short and time will come for you.
Well said.