It's as melancholic as the story of fantine and her lark in Les miserable, as heart breaking as the agony bursting forth in acclamation of a great battle lost.
To
always "awakens in the winters".
More heart wrenching as to he who awakens not until at final bed of repose.

As the wind of glad tidings blows the ladened cloud whither and thither. So shall, my worries, my Laden's of current and on  substitute to drench my path will be blown to a far desert land where nothing sprung and no soul paves,  there it will lay waste, no aught to cast it's misery upon
..

Though completely immersed in her ocean of deception.
Carried away by her alluring appearance.
Enveloped in her chaos and distractions.
Don't forget to breathe and realize it's just another fading moment.

It's Amazing how swift and down slopping  things and ways, rolls and drift into the abyss of obsolete without a brass fading of affection immersed in the darkness of time..
But thrilling how that which reaches out to the soul of humanity and  universe reemerges more illuminous from the abyss of time..

In as much as he miss and would love to behold thy innocence and seraphic radiance. He don't just want to create a seen without pulling the string..
Without