Behold, the woman's monthly flow, deemed the 'curse,' a tribute to the ancient sin of Eve, the blood of an unborn babe, a debt paid by her daughters throughout time.
But I am rejoiced to be found once more, to emerge from the shadows of my musings and return to the realm of the living, where my absence is noted and my presence welcomed.
Upon the summer solstice, when the sun reigns supreme in its zenith, one is brought forth into this world, bathed in the warm glow of the heavens above.
Verily, one cannot harbor disdain for he who hath already completed his endeavor, for in the tapestry of fate, each thread finds its destined end, and to begrudge the fulfilled is to defy the weaver's design.
Fair colt, whose bucket holds the fruit of the orchard, pray tell, how many apples doth it carry? Doth it overflow with nature's bounty, or doth it carry a modest harvest?