"The world is indeed full of peril, and in it there are many dark places; but still there is much that is fair, and though in all lands love is now mingled with grief, it grows perhaps the greater." - J.R.R. Tolkien
In November, it will be 100 years since World War I ended. WWI is not forgotten in London; there are reminders all throughout the city, none more powerful than the memorial for the unknown soldier interred in the stone of Westminster Abbey.
Tolkien barely survived the trenches during WWI and lived through the horror of WWII. In 1941, this church was bombed during the Blitz.
There is a wrenching beauty to this hollow, blackened shell, made even more profound by the flourishing, vibrant green that pervades the sacred space.
Is it possible that tragedy makes love and beauty even more valuable?