From a friend: 

Sage leaves. They smell so clean and deep, and they are perfect for a pause. There is a small, still space inside each of us that can be tapped in the midst of turmoil. Within all the lies, heartbreak, and disaster of the outside world, there exists the promise and reassurance of impermanence. These leaves will sit on my altar until they wither, and then they will crumble and disappear. Or perhaps season a dish. Regardless, their present form is limited and already changing.

From a friend of the friend: We are impermanent. The community we belong to abides, and is full of amazing, temporal things. It changes and grows new forms. Perhaps we can and will as well. That's something to shoot for and to hope for.