sometimes we feel like this. solid rock and mass amongst the moving currents of an ever-changing/fleeting world just beyond grasp. an island. with a few living trees atop. and some brush. our edges slowly crumbling away with each breath of air. each lap of wave. and we feel sad. and we feel alone. but we’ve made ourselves as such. why?
in what ways have you become a beautiful island amongst constant change? in what ways have you done this as a point of self preservation and realization. in what ways was this the only way to survive in a mad mad world.
cannot we ourselves be our only true constant?
dont be sad. just remember that this is a part of reflection…..
hugs, with odies small arms with tufts of short white fur about you. hugs with odie mamas lithe honey colored limbs of the female human form about you as well.
O and OM.