Indigenous Spring | Metamorphosis of The MetaphorUnity Consciousness #134

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Spring itself has determined its time.

Despite heavy last ditch doses of February frozenness, plants, Earth's earlier inhabitants, were engaging in snow removal.

Birds not hesitating are congregating. Creasy greens are pushing into fuller swings. Lovers are now salivating. Buttercups are glistening. Groundhog pups are whistling. Understanding is recalibrating. I am rushing to catch up.

Once the time for a thing has come, no man-made devisings can stop it. No not even frozen land escapes the powers that be inherent in Universe, Earth and those who were here first.

Spring is an indigenous, eternal thing.

The processes through which comes Spring, must, by necessity of logic in the mothership's inboard cellular computer, lead to the melting away of even the lowest entrenched spirit.