Boreal Spring (6)

A sun is reborn, vast golden flame setting the horizon ablaze. Its rays cut through the lingering cold air, crossing a clear sky where a fine, weightless sail stretches upward. Taut like a thread, it surges forth, slicing the currents and opening a path toward the newborn light. Around it, the lands awaken, splashed with vivid colors, as if every spark became a promise. Ochres turn into embers, purples into buds, greens into fragile shoots ready to burst. It is a spring of the North, at once delicate and fierce, where ice yields to the fervor of renewal. The whole canvas breathes this tension between cold and warmth, between ending and beginning. Yet does this boreal spring embody a cycle eternally returning, or the singular birth of a world still waiting to be created?