But when the flowers of the world close and that evening concerto of bloom, of colour soon depart, what was there earlier is still inside, still dormant of want for its warmth and for its reprisal. Soon enough as silently as falling feather fell we're here again and we're met with those dancing flowers in the late morning breeze as daintily beaming as the shafts of light which illuminate their vigour. Its only nature, its only always here, always living for the sake of life. You are a very part of that life and though no matter how many leagues parted and how much time may pass we share every aspect. Spoken by so few, is it taken granted you are alive? Know you are! Revel and embrace, you are awake! How so and why so? Why not and here is the now, you are the now and now were home. But really, it cant be effused so easily. Its a complex and ever changing, ever evolving disposition we acquire. Gaining great troubles and equally great peace in time you must trust. Speak and be heard, know that your efforts are never gone to waste, not squandered and cast into the pool of the mist, that great well which knows no end to its greed, swallowing and veiling the good things that came and went to never return.