The sun was now completely gone over the horizon, bathing the trees and grass in a deep shade of violet. The night air was calm, and the sound of the sea waves crashing below was all that could be head. The grass underfoot was soft, inviting one to linger for a while and admire the true beauty of the stillness of the night.
The breeze of the quiet night whispers of hope in the hearts of men. With a gentle touch it caresses the soil, breathing life back into the world as it is swept over the earth in waves lifting the seeds of life. But it also reminds even the oldest souls, that this journey is but momentary. With each moment that passes, death inches ever closer, just waiting for its turn at the wheel, for in the silence the voice of a desperate soul is the loudest.
How brief and fleeting even grand thing can end, how quickly histories fade. Even the most powerful of kingdoms are eventually reduced to tales and legends of the old, told only of times since gone. The same is true for all things. No matter how majestic or predominant, they will all fall in due time, leaving but empty nothingness of the forgotten ages. All proof is layed in front of the eyes, for those who are heedful of the way of life, for those who see and hear the noises within the quietude.
Death, a quiet finality that eventually come to life as the clock ticks down and the hourglass empties, returns all that must be returned to that which formed them in the beginning, all creation flowing back together.
Life, a delicate dance among the currents of nature, a constant shifting flow, a wave crashing down, rising back up, never staying still for long. A balance that cannot be interrupted, disrupted, or controlled. Each moment is like a wave upon the ocean, and existence that crashed against the shore of time before the next comes, its essence something not easily understood or grasped. While there is chaos in the ebb and flow of life, there is also a rhythm to it.
As if to remind mortals of their insignificant role in the prime order of things, the eternal dance between life and death, the ever-whispering breeze of the night remind even the strongest of hearts of its inevitable fare. In the midst of our passing moments, as empires rise and fall within a fraction of eternity, we mustn't ignore the voice that is reaching out to us as a subtle warning of our impermanence.
For though we are small among eternities, in our hearts we hold hope for immortality. And yet, we must strive to make a mark. To carve a lasting legacy that will echo forth through the generations of times to come. Our efforts, as small and insignificant as they may be, do not fail to make a change, to make the future stand on the shoulders of giants they have inherited, creating.
Let not the deafening screams of agony and despair to drown out the whispers of hope within...
