Sweetness always follows rage in a nest of vanilla orchids. It's a learned potency in silence and solace with cast shadows harboring sorrow in these little things that aren't easy to give and aren't easy to love: confusion and wonder, joy and ache, unlocked explosions and rain-petals. So on and so forth, so on and on and on...and it's quiet again, buried, so on; sweetness buried again, quiet again, sweet again; father, mother, sister, brother, each other.