What is about a clear night sky that clouds the mind and forces introspection? Why do the stars, so simple in their enduring light, infinite in their numbers and distance, bring us to look inwards and find ourselves alone?
Why, as a boulder that is rooted by habit and tradition, do we resist the winds of change no matter how fiercely they may blow? Why do we not bow to the coursing of water and air as blades of grass, capable of spreading far across the land but always wilting in place.
A stagnant pond eventually darkens, scoured by algae and bereft of purity, but a river runs ever clear and clean; running as rapids or the gentle wanderings akin to the mind until it reaches the seas to where the waters spread into oblivion.
The winds do not cause the boulder to roll, instead slowly carving it down until all that remains is dust.
The grass may thrive and grow tall, but it is ever teased and made to bow before a gust.
The stars, so far and incomprehensible, still move in the night sky, even if only due to the indistinguishable turning of the world, and vanish upon their first flirt with the sun’s rays.
SoulfulMoth Productions 