Spring is on its way. The sky is shades of blue and white again, and sunsets no longer have that bittersweet tinge to them, unless it's something you carry with you on your soul. There's a cool breeze blowing along the back of my neck, not a cold one. I can smell growth and life emerging from its haitus, remembering that all dark winters do come to pass. The birds whipple, the flowers blossom and everything begins anew, another day, another life, another turn of the Great Cyclic Wheel.

Is it enough? I suppose it'll have to be.