Ancient Road

I’ve stumbled upon you. You looking out over the water, and I asked you what you were looking at and you said Time. Every ripple, you said, represented a relationship with Time. A series of awarenesses went out across the distance. This was everything, you said. The light patter of knowing, feeling, and being. The sky was blue and the plants were green and everything in between had the mark of man. That interference reminded us of the mark we make, unless of course we are trapped in the emptiness that exists without us. I prefer to look, like you, across the water or “The Ancient Road” and see almost no evidence of our being. We almost never do as well as mother nature.

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