One need not be looking for sorrow to find sorrow One need not be looking for joy.
I waited too long.
The air was still then, still as the light, still as the light tilts to pale pink, to pale yellow, to the color of peaches that ripen the evening, tug at the memory, and then fade to darkness and death.
The air was still then, still enough for what I must do, still, and still I know not how or what.
I step out finally, looking. Not for sorrow, not for joy. I step out to find the stillness has ended. The winds have arisen and begun already to push ahead the sun, the warmth, the light itself.
I have stepped into the awakening storm.
Siege of the Spirit 