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 be loved, 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, each other.