The Hill We Climb
When the day comes, we step out of the shade, aflame and unafraid.
The new dawn blooms as we free it.
For there is always light,
If only we're brave enough to see it.
This is the last year.
There will be no other,
but heartless nature
seemingly relents.
Never has a winter sun
spilled so much light,
never have so many flowers
dared such early bloom.
The air is brilliant, sharp.
Never have I taken
such long, long breaths.