Spring arrives to the mountain, all rushing floods and bursting blooms. Your days end with flushed cheeks and tired limbs, but just as much the sense that time has no power over you, that the Darkness lost its way chasing you and gave it a rest. You decide to continue running for a while, decide that the Great Escape is allowed to be more fun than trauma, decide that you feel better than you have in years.
The grass is green outside your window, the cows unhurried in their moves across the pasture. You take deep breaths into the quiet evening, revel in a moment before the whirlwind picks back up.
See a hundred mornings line up before you.
Realize you look forward to greeting each and every one.
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