Drip. Drip. Drip. Life. Motion. Even in the bitter cold. Water keeps flowing. No matter what. The shroud of ice covering the small stream grows thicker. Wider. Day by day. Because the water never stops. Drop by drop. Hour after hour. A trickle. But a steady one. Of life. A force of nature. Powerful enough to flow through any drought. Or cold. Because it comes all the way from Source. The one that never runs dry.
Can you feel it? Deep inside? Beneath your own armor of ice? The one you accumulated piece by piece? As protection. But also shielding you. From life itself. But there it is. The droplet. Unstoppable. Even under the weight of your armor. Squeezing you. Constricting you. Yet, the droplet emerges. See me! I am here. Always.
Something is moving. Behind your shell. Opening up. A tentative tip of a tongue. The droplet lands. Connects. Softly.
Instantly, you remember. The taste. Of freedom. Of joy. Of life. You want more. More! Drip. Drip. Drip. Within you. Spring has arrived.