The winter mist is gone. It's time I moved on. The greatest poetry, supposedly, is born out of the deepest tremors of the soul. Yet, this selfish emotion does nothing more than wring my heart and leave me helpless. It's an emotional quagmire, I've learnt. One that I'll have to get out of myself. And yet, when they say there'll be another morn, I laugh. Because, little do they know, it's the dark, silent night that makes me sing. So, I wait for the day I'll find my voice again. The one I've momentarily lost. Tomorrow's going to be different, a new world, new faces. An adventure or a challenge, i'll have to find out on my own. Faith stays, it is something that refuses to budge. I know it's not going to be the same, because I am no longer the same. It's heartening though.....I'm growing up. :)