There was cold, solitude, and winter.

It was dark; no light entered through.

There was just nothing, before everything.

Then it came: colors of the spring, with a dash of vanilla scent.

In jet black, I saw nothing but white;

In the heat of summer, I craved the icy snow.

When it snowed, I missed the rays of the sun.

Then, I fell in love with the mountains, on top of which I could watch the sea.

But, like the sea when it was stormy, except when it reached the shores of the forest.

When, again, the blue is the blue of the calm ocean in the morning; I find myself longing.

Then, there comes the wind, carrying rain within, and the poplar trees dance to the song of crickets.

When the cold jolts me awake at dusk once more, I ask myself:

How is it that sunrise and sunset feel so much the same?