Why did I lose them? Why did they have to go away? Why does the frost strip the branches bare?
I did everything right.
We did everything right.
We were good to others.
We shared what we could.
Peace, man. Peace.
The frost abates. The trees flourish to share their shade and fruit. They become home to scores again, life teeming on, around and under. Sweet, cool air falls beneath their crowns where the weary rest. All this comes from orphaned seeds, dropped in filth, left abandoned and crushed under foot without note or thought. Each sprout enduring by grace until it is enough to give.
I have endured for what purpose, I know not. I will endure and grow in strength to give rest and shelter to the weary. To that, I can hold for now.
-A Servant in Grief
“Pinnacle” is the working title for a Fantasy novel by Matthew Munoz. The speaker in this passage, “the Servant” is a grieving man who is attached to the principal characters in the story.