The morning of the great memory brought a recognition that had been waiting for all of time. The garden had remembered everything. The source had remembered everything. The love had remembered everything. And now the circle was complete. Not closed. Complete. A circle that was also a spiral. A circle that was also a beginning. A circle that was also an eternal now.
Roisin and Eoghan had become the memory long ago. The current presence was a pair named Deirdre and Padraic. They were not leaders. They were not weavers. They were not presence in the old sense. They were the circle. They were the understanding that the garden had no beginning and no end. They were the recognition that everything was connected in an unbroken whole.
They stood at what had been the source stone. But the source
