Hundred moons have passed, and the nights only seems to get colder. It’s been a long wait for the spring and I see no sign of it. Has the season succumbed to its death of everlasting winter? Will I see no seasons more, will this be forever? My thoughts swirled inside my head devouring me piece by piece. Piercing through the swallowing mist came a voice, “My Child, the Creation cannot obliterate itself nor can the Creation come into an existence unless the Creator wills, this is just another slumbering winter, soon will come spring and you will see the blooms of it”.

Another hundred moons passed but the nights didn’t seem colder anymore, the days were longer and warmer. I don’t know who spoke to me through the mist, but I shall wait for my spring to bloom until then it’s just a slumbering winter.