As the bright white stars
Twinkle sporadically in the
Black of the night,
The pale yellow crescent moon dances around them.
The cold wind whispers to the
Darkness
And sounds like millions of voices
Singing softly in synch.
Trees sway back and forth
Moving with the peculiar
Occurrences of the world
And grasping for something unknown.
The river flows and never ceases
Its perfection.
Billions of fireflies hover over the face
Of the peaceful
River,
While crickets sing their never ending
Song.
I stare and watch the world
That is a continuous cycle,
Twirling,
Spinning,
Circling,
Creating life,
Destroying life,
And living.
It is a wonder and a curse,
To be part of something so grand.
A wonder,
Because of its Majesty.
A curse,
Because of the simple thought of not
Living up to its standards,
Its perfections.
