Cold. Wet. Exhausted. The final morning. Storm shatters silence. Do we deserve what has come to us? Who can say. Colors tumble along the horizon. One foot. Another. Another. Another. Muscles quaking, lungs burning. Minds filled with chaos. Is there a remedy for an illness with no name? Are we strong enough to search for it? Colors. Anticipation builds as the sun begins to break free. We wait. We wait. We wait. What kind of cruelty do we harbor for ourselves? Don't we all deserve to be happy? I'd like to be brave enough to believe that. Clouds with names and faces challenge us. We have waited long enough. What if the anticipation is all there is? What if the sun loses the battle, just this once? But it won't lose the battle. Neither will we. The sun deserves to shine. So do we. Heal.