If there's anything pure and untainted in this world, just listen and it can be heard resonating from the birds chirping their blissful and sorrowful songs harmoniously as the Sun rises unveiling a new dawn in the dark void of one's soul.
So, alone and longing for a fulfillment somehow long forgotten in the brevity of life, but like death, unexpectedly has a sudden glimpse of eternal memory as it becomes unattuned to the midnight skies and then dances with the twinkling stars.
Light, reflecting off the magical hues painting the flowers that softly sway back-and-forth in desolate meadows waving the hand of some otherworldly spirit and butterflies flutter their wings ever so gracefully supping of the sweet nectar of a Lily.
Is there any doubt that these sonnets of creation was written by some omniscient and poet above?
Even on cold secluded nights, miracles occur, as droplets of water fall from eerie clouds as they freeze into symmetrical patterns coalescing in the moonlight and transfixing even the nary deer hiding in the shadows of the thick forests.
Oh, how I'm smitten by the leaves saying goodbye to summer, and autumn, and then hello to winter turning from green, to read, orange and a deathly grey. The outdoors whisper to me and it's the voice of nature's soothing murmurings.
All the streams, mountains, and fields are the visible canvas of eternity, and it keeps my heart beating, and my soul hopeful that even though, I'll wither away into nothing this, springtime will bring me back again with the new perennials.