Could we but give our souls a voice loud enough for all to hear, we'd sing of summersongs within our hearts and find them echoed in return. But even soft words can become weapons, turned against us by those we hold most dear. We watch our worlds crumble around us, left seemingly alone to sweep up the pieces. A million cries ring out and are silenced.
The threads that keep us together are thin. Woven by strands of fate and chance, a web which bends in the breeze but is rarely strong enough to hold against a fleeting wind. Yet fleeting winds and fleeting moments are all we have and all we cling to, forever hopeful that these moments never pass. Those who remain beside us through it all are perhaps life's greatest gift.