I will passively sit here and let the world outside encroach on my well being and my life for the sake of not stirring up a pot of worms, ignoring the fact that worms are good for the soil, and feed birds. My knowledge of chemistry and biology is limited. The only thing I have going for me is my common sense, which now days is not so common and extremely arguable by science. In my day hard work tilled the soil, the fruit from which was safe to eat. Today the toil is tilled by machines, the fruit sprayed with cancer causing ingredients, and yet science will tell me it’s safe. When I was young, people did not die so readily from tumors. It was proven that radiation exposure will kill you and that the Amazon was the world’s resource for life. My generation is one passing on, and the next waves good riddance. All the written works of my forefathers will be buried because it is old, used up, proven useless in a spinning age of modernity. Where you are going, I cannot say. I can only grieve that you didn’t enjoy the fragrance of nature and it’s healing powers. Perhaps there’s a planet out there more suitable and to your liking, one you can control.
For me, the beauty will forever be in the struggle of being born – the match of strength against the storm, the power in muscle against muscle and wit against wit. To rise from the dust with energy mustered from will and determination and perseverance.
The world is falling soft against the pillows. What you are is what you will ever be for there is no goal post to compete for. I can only nod, as an ancient cedar, grateful that I grew in an age that demanded fortitude. In the heights that I rose to, the air is fresh, the rain cool against my face. Birds have nested in my branches and creatures in the shelter of my crevices. I’ve given warmth and food to those in need. My struggles are behind me.