Fresh breeze of a Spring morn that intoxicates beings with outpouring joy, taking friends and lovers to the nearest fields to bathe under the sunlight, recharging the energy that’s been drained on the past gloomy winter days. Never a song was so sweet as the nightingale’s soft chanting on the blossom tree, which in return covers the ground with glorious snowy petals. The world is once again coloured with life; music and motions intertwined in every being.
Woe is me, for no creature wishes to share their joyful spirits. From the lonely evergreen I watch this enchanted sight, hearing the echo of my own words failing to bring replies. My alienated home rests on undiscovered land where gentle steps dare not to wonder. Beyond the realms of dreams I am not a part of this vision, but a mere witness to its beauty.
A voice lures me away from my haven and soon dissolves into vacant air, making me a solemn wanderer in this lovely world. Cheated by that sweet melody, the sounds of Spring are but a memory of unachievable paradise. I do not speak or weep, but resume my walk appreciating the foreign voices that would never embrace my presence.
Past the wondrous hills and dense woods, my comfort is found by the edge of a lake where a silent hummingbird kisses the newly-blossomed flowers. We are not heard, this delicate bird and I, louder voices will always silence our presence. ‘Tis in this moment that any traces of fear are lifted from my bosom; with imagery magnificent as dreams, the timid beings are those who find the beauty hiding within the simple things.