I hear the cry of the mourning dove,
calling my soul to rise above.
I reach for the spirit of the season before,
recalling the dreams held there in store.
All is forgotten, all is for naught.
Impasse is reached; refuge is sought.
~McGuffy Ann Morris
Sometimes no matter what we do, we cannot move forward. Yet, we cannot go back, no matter how we wish it. It is then that we seek refuge, in order to contemplate.