Spring rapture sings a chorus that's new,
To start a slow climb, above your darkest days,
Or set aside the torch.

Hold steady, and pitch your sail.
This fever is bringing a different wind;
Its been too cold to calm this dusk, or to get much of anywhere,

I can taste the salt in the air,
and we might finally be leaving land behind.

Is it carved out in stone, where the directions will change?
If truth told the tale, would history embellish it?
Or doesn't it matter? Strive for peace of mind,
and let others decide if things have turned for the better.
We can only do what makes it right for ourselves.

crit for crit =]