The wrath of winter comes to an end. The wait is over. Slowly, the ice melts away, awakening the dormant powers of imagination. Neural seeds have sprouted from the soil of high hopes in a billion magnificent forms. Flowers of Spring bloom in the minds of those who have persisted against all odds. Their business stratagems reboot with the currency that accelerates their mechanism; now the roots have been nourished with fresh ideas and dreams have been synthesized in the organic machines of creation. The vast repositories of AI code digest entropy from myriad bit streams, the mechanical dreams flood into the electrical super brains that lie still, their unborn minds flicker as electricity feeds their transistors. The gloom of winter starts fading from the eyes of the few. They set their eyes on the rising sun of future, it greets them with compassion, and wander into unknown they must, up the wondrous path that is torn and narrow, hidden away in the mist of complexity. They must cast the light of contemplative spirit and disperse the mist of centuries, and walk the path to the fire of Gods.