Blossom Reflections

Spring.

"Spring and love and happiness! Are you not weary of the same senseless, inane delusion?Always the same and always an delusion! There is no spring, no sunshine, no happiness."

Leo Tolstoy was right. Despite centuries of civilisation, we lusted for spring, never realizing that spring always ended, always bringing misery, always left us gasping for more. It was like a sudden flash of light while waiting in the darkness--we enjoyed it for the moment, but like fools we waited for the next one, blinded by it.

Despite centuries of our civilisation, we treasure happiness, though knowing it is fleeting, and it is gone before daybreak. It is the same flash of light. We turn to it, watching hungrily for more.

But Leo Tolstoy was wrong. We seek happiness in the little things in life we find while we toil. We seek beauty and happiness for the moment even though we risk being sadder after the illusion.

We are reckless and unusual in our ways.We are human. Spring, love and happiness are human. Illusions they may be, but they are delightful, occuring periodically enough to remind us of being human, and yet spaced apart far enough not to be distractions to the real world.

It looked like it was 5 in the evening. I could tell by the sky and the sun, poised elegantly between life and death, but hanging on miserably to the wisps of white that interrupted the sky, before it spiralled downwards, only to return the next day.

I drew my curtain across the window. Enough gazing for today,I thought. After all, spring is an illusion.