The summer sun fills me, and empties me...when the warmth soaks into my very bones it drives out all else. I can't think of my troubles, or my hopes and fears. How can you think when you're full of *being* ? If I could think, I would be afraid to speak, to touch anyone, for fear the light would burst forth and burn them away. How fortunate it is, then, that when I am filled with light and happiness I am emptied of thoughts and left only with being, with seeing, with loving. I am a child of summer, no matter the season - I do not want to think, to worry, to fear that I will be misunderstood, but to love without need for restraint. The summer rain quenches my fears and my needs, and the lightning charges me, lifts me up and fills me with such energy that I cannot possibly be contained. In my heart I fly on the stormwinds, make the trees shake with excitement, touch every part of the earth with fierce caresses. Every wrong that I have ever done is washed away by the rain, and I am left with laughter, and a fey strength.