At some point, even the greatest misery begins to fade. Life, or what passes for life, plods on in it's own unending weary footsteps, and somehow we plod along with it, if we stay lucky.
I want to hear the wind in the trees. Feel the sun warm my back. I want to see birds fly in a sky with no boundaries.
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I want to hear the wind in the trees. Feel the sun warm my back. I want to see birds fly in a sky with no boundaries.
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It was not a noisy wind but the kind that suggests something very big and thin fresh from the horror of Infinite Space.
Within its gates I heard the soundOf winds in cypress caverns caughtOf huddling tress that moaned, and soughtTo whisper what their roots had found.(__ Dream of Fear_)
Our relatedness with other living forms provides us something we sorely need: a reverence for the life of all creatures great and small, and an expanded view of our place in nature__ot as rulers over it, but as participants in it.