when spring has sprung and winter is done there comes this strange sadness.
like losing a friend putting them aside, as the next one blossoms before me.
there is a ghost like quality to the changes of seasons. when i sit with them i feel the movement of the universe, time stands still and hurtles forward.
these moments flash before my eyes.
don't blink
don't blink
what comes next is still a mystery even after 56 springs have sprung.
i savor and enjoy every single one.
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