On winter’s coldest day in New York, I found myself at the Brooklyn Bridge—deep snow below, floating ice ahead—yet “A Bridge from My Heart to Yours” remained unbroken, bringing spring’s warmth to my heart.
On the summit, I stand with the ”Cliff of the World,“ dancing on the edge of a vanished sea. Thirty million years later, a dry riverbed, like a giant serpent, scars the earth below. And the sun sets—its ancient, ordinary ritual plating the world in eternal gold.
The world holds its breath, waiting for the one we’ve been waiting for. Come, Spring. We are ready for your warmth, your colour, and your gentle renewal.
