Well, it's a little late to shed a tear for what comes around. Should we encounter terror in our lives, a fleeting awe-inspring moment of sheer fear, let us succumb to it. Do not stand firm in the face of adversity... instead, embrace it, bring it in to you and make it a part of your soul. Then you shall glow, entering into sublimity.

Indeed we shall then pick up the painted pieces and glue them back together, if in an altered state as if seen through a glass, darkly. Mottled, shattered, they shall come back together with little shards missing in the dark wilderness. Indeed we shall carry on regardless and the talk of the women in the room, coming and going, coming and going, shall ring in our ears like the sombre tolling of winter bells across the fields of snow. Indeed shall this be done, and in deed shall we carry on.

From the heart there comes a voice. Not of song, but a pleasant voice, speaking sedately, pausing for breath, telling its narrative. Distant clouds are etched onto the canvas, as you realise the horizon must come before the foreground. Understand that there must be a darkness for the brighter colours to shine more strongly, blinding you. Even a weed shall grow, if sown by error.

And once you are old and grey, with your fathers murmuring upon the wind. When you are old and grey and you no longer see what the younger people can live, you no longer understand how bright colours once were, trace a finger along a curled, fading line. Follow it through a mirror and see that world, distorted, where once you experienced terror and you embraced it with your whole mind, and, for once, you lived.