Spring within

It is such a tingling strain, breathing life in each string of green, that loneliness seems to reveal. Here is the ultimate spirit, ready for one and only heart-rending bell. Herds of ardent deer are running  through the fleshy grass, digging wildly soft scars in the earthly lungs. There is nothing to remind you of spring whose mightiness never ends.... Without any movement, staying on the lurk, at the side land of the night, you could see their warm blasts, stabbing their silken shades. You could feel the flush in each grain and stone preserved by the moist ground. You could wind their agape nostrils scenting  beyond crooked ancient oaks. And you could also envision their strong-willed frown heads mouldered in rust.

         Waiting has no other beholder than suspense. Beyond all bearing, hoping for a  triumphal gallop to be unleashed, would be a peaceful salvation at any moment. Crumbling bones, shattering hoofbeat, fraught breath and luscious tameless blood are seething with sweetness. Under the mildly glimpse of the doe, lost in silver and purple bloodshed, the forgotten flaming sap of the groves rekindles! Hence, twirls are turning into one spring, flushing farther both thirst and hunger for life. From the abyss as dark as pitch, shy beams dare to shine, announcing a glorious dawn...