Through these trees we see a passing light
The stars that dot the shadowy nite
A howl or rustle in the crumbling leaves
The sounds of the seasons now haunting your dreams

-Jal

As you sit, watch the world in it's never ending cycle of breezes and hypocritical ways, the clash between peace and severity ponders as your mind wanders lost at sea. The struggle for humility stricken down by theories and deities Or by those who claim power in the uncertain purgatory of beliefs. But through this fog lies peace although anger surrounds it and conceals the true place of being. This earth we fond so little of, This Hell that we traverse to find our place. Pause. Listen. Watch. The wind blows through extravagance as the smell of burning wood reminds us of this season. The falling leaves dying and touching pieces of our very souls. Thus, being the reminder of those loved that we have buried in holes. I sit and through this window I glance at a world that has seen so much and yet so little. This place is beautiful.
-Jalveign