It's golden they say,
Overwhelming you at first,
But gradually bringing you peace.
The soul knows the language like no other,

Sometimes a much needed respite,
Like a short vacation,
Healing you and launching you forth.

And then one day, the words burst forth,
Like the first spring flowers after a snowy winter,
Bringing color to the white,
Movement to the still air.

Flowers peeking out of the snow


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