I’m soaring high above the clouds.

Looking.

My eyes whisper to me, in thousands of colors, that I am alive.

Listening.

A faint rhythm that seems to bind everything embraces me, calls me.

Feeling.

I’m stretching my wings, touching the wind.

Waiting.

The heavens above vibrate persistently, passing through me.

Flying.

Within my soul, spring has silently arrived.

And the pagoda trees will soon start blooming.