We trust our senses implicitly. Yet our senses are only there to trick us into believing we are something other than what we truly are!
Mountain river, made of snow. Melting, rushing, finding flow. Feeding green throughout the land. Pushing back the dried out sand. Bringing life to all you pass. Until you reach the shore at last. Become just one eternal blue. As you reach the truth of you. What is the truth of you?