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The forest is life, breaths, is born, grows and dies. Water nourishes and bathes the seed hidden in the earth’s womb. Everything flourishes and lives in harmony with itself. Heavy stones roll down the mountain. Am I just passing through? The broken trunks are the scars. Everything works and everything is what it needs to be. Too bad we are already dead outside.

Cosmic oscillations rage and strike like the big bang. Not once, but several times. I’m educating someone else to see, not to look. Time does not pass like the wind that blows away the black clouds, which circle like vultures ready to feed on the carcass. The void inside is so noisy, and the echoes are deafening.

I was there once, before all this in another life, perhaps. Right now I’m just a semi-dying on-road spectator. I dive and fall into the void; what I see is my body. How nice to be a forest, it is in harmony with everything, and it is what it must be Life.

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