Teliya looked out over the ocean and watched its steady flow in and out.  The rhythm was like much of the rest of life.  Cycles were everywhere.  The tides were a cycle of cycles.  The tide came in and went out and certain times of the year it was higher than most and certain times lower.

 The water of the ocean itself was part of a cycle.  It rained and followed the streams down to the ocean.  Then the water went back to the clouds to rain again.

 The earth she stood on followed a cycle.  Now it was soft earth but some day it would be buried and put under enough pressure that it would become rock.  Then after much time had passed it would rise to the surface again and be eroded into soft earth once more.

 Life, too, followed a cycle, she knew.  Eggs were layed, eggs hatched the nestlings grew into fledglings, then into adults.  The adults had children of their own then grew old and died.  That was the way of things.  Their souls followed a cycle of birth and death and rebirth, traveling among the worlds as they followed the cycle.

 Teliya closed her eyes to the tears that started in them.  He mother was merely continuing the cycle.  There was no end; only a series of beginnings.  Her heart knew this but still she grieved.  She grieved for her mother and for herself.  She was afraid.  Was she truly ready to be elder of her people now?  Time would tell.

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