I have just seen you go down the mountain.
I close the wicker gate in the setting sun.
The grass will be green again in coming spring,
But will the wanderer ever return?

I began to learn who I was, what exactly I wanted to do, and started running toward this goal from that moment.

It sometimes strikes me how immensely fortunate I am that each day should take its place in my life, either reddened with the rising and setting sun, or refreshingly cool with deep, dark clouds, or blooming like a white flower in the moonlight. What untold wealth!