I found myself in a chaotic little dance around the grass patch, watching how the butterfly never flew straight, often changing its mind and switching directions.

Were the koels the original cheerleaders of the forest all this while? The thought that every song in the forest is appreciated and needed felt deeply beautiful.

I'd still be torn and lost, completely unclear why I was living in misery, under the torture of my reprimanding mind. But I had something small, something at all, to look forward to.