And the mountains echoed that I was enough;
that the world would be a soul short without me,
that the canvas needs to embody all colours;
light and dark, glows and shades;
a beautiful mess of tones and textures,
that my tears are as vital as the ever-flowing streams,
that the sun will always rise,
to bathe me in a promise of brighter,
warmer days,
and that the earth cherishes every single footprint.
