"Where you will go, I will go," she said.
They were the truest words I had ever heard, even though I lived in the Days of the Prophets.
But the Prophets, peace be unto them, always had their eyes and hearts upturned towards Heaven.
Me, I needed the soil, needed to grow, to blossom, to create.
She needed that too: she too was a seed, unwatered and unwanted: lying fallow on the threshing floor.
Her love died, and she nearly did too, on that day that God smiled upon someone else.
I heard her cry, but only in my heart; I knew not the source of the cry, only that I must answer it.
And by the Grace of God, I did, and will die a happy man, the day and hour my wife dies too.
We are united by love and faith, and none shall break those bonds, not even Death Herself.
I know this to be true, and so does she.
Praise be to God.
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