Humanity is paradoxical in its wants and expressions, thoughts and actions, souls and bodies. But how much do each one of us really know? We, the keepers of the world, are often strangers to ourselves. Rain pours against the outside of a dirty window pane, failing to cleanse away sorrow. And we wait, silently breathing, for the sky to open up. Does everything really happen to us? We would not know, unless we were someone else. Turn your head, and let the sun wrap its warmth around your cheek, even as we may always remain restless and watchful. When the soul is unearthed, intimacy blossoms, and connections are rooted. The ingredients are all there. Self-knowledge is the garden to be washed in the rains of rebirth of an open mind. Laced with truth, the sun will always mesmerize and dazzle, and form rainbow prisms in the light.