It must not be as complicated as they’d have us believe.
Or there couldn’t be so much pleasure found in such mundane things.
The sun and the wind.
The birds in their nests.
Each day new in a cycle as old as the earth herself.
Distraction is their game. Distraction pits neighbor against neighbor, mother against son, brother against sister. An endless news cycle meant to separate us from the hands we used to hold. There is so much distance here. It echoes.
We are lonely. Lonesome. Craving skies filled with stars and the curling tendrils of galaxies where instead streetlights blot out the sky.
There is so much here that we cannot see. No wonder we are wandering, lost. We’ve forgotten more than we’ve ever had the chance to believe.
Cover your ears when they tell you this is all you get in this life. That this is all you deserve. Close your eyes when they come to you peddling their wares. They are charlatans. Magicians. Their offerings glitter but they are empty inside, hollow, or worse even than that. Pinch yourself. Dig your toes into the cool earth beneath your feet and Resist.
There are mountains here. And valleys. Rivers as wide as they are long, underground caves dripping with minerals, ancient forests, endless oceans with land slowly drifting above.
There are currents here. Of wind, of water. Of fire.
Undercurrents. Of living, breathing, wild life.
What we are. What we must remember how to be.
Thank you for listening,