You crave and you carve, you think you still need to feel brave as the red nectar seeps from tired arms. Feet are bruised from walking never ending circles. Heart is full but brain is dull. Fingers still attempt to fix mistakes made by the tongue. United in power, heart and mind come to an agreement and the courage is put to the test. It lies in the forgotten dusty den of your mind, where dead spiders dwell but their webs live on, ready to catch your weakness. You are still suffering in a desolate green of renewed spring growth. Summer is not far away, it will enhance your cold memories of winter's depths. And yet as you carve for the hundredth time, a wry smile appears on the previously down turned corners of your mouth and cravings become less significant, because a knowledge of rebirth has sprung in the pleasant spring.