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?
What troubles you today? Allow the winds of your mind to blow them free. Black clouds dominating. Winds intensifying. Waves growing. Yet in the nature of chaosis a tranquillity for the brave to discover. A thousand whispers carried on the windbecome the choir of heavenserenading troubles from the mind.