I have a hard time with Spring. There is so much struggle as the world extricates its living self from the frost covered hands of winter. I feel most raw in this season of extreme change. I find myself being ripped open, filled with the ice and despair of my winter. But then, when hope seems to flee into the waiting dark, my soul buds forth. And like a great living Phoenix rising from whitewashed ashes, I emerge, alone shoot in the dregs of the world.
Rebirth. Renewal. Resurgence.
Thus is Spring.