The rivers flows through the veins of the earth. Wind escapes the grasp of the trees branches. The rain soaks the worlds skin, and all its rough edges.
Darkness forms from the pillows of the sky, hiding what’s beyond and keeping our mind open to imagination.
And we can’t help but wonder, is there something more than meaning and purpose? Does the grass grow because it has to? wants to? Needs to? Or does everything just fall into place? Because what’s meant to be is meant to be and there’s no control, or perhaps we have more control than we dare to hope.