Upon the winds comes a message, not by echoes, calls or horns. A message in a language lost by those who themselves grow separate from nature itself.
The world has turned to a sad state of affairs.
Perversions are the order of the day,
Lives filtered through the lens of a lens with opinion and undue certainty mixed in.
Hardly a scrap of truth is recognized the world over anymore,
For truth has become objective views of certainty.
Many times I had gone by those fields where fortune flowers. My wealth was noticed on the path and where those paths did lead. Continue reading “Flowering fields of fortune [archive].”
The wind started to pick up in the early afternoon. The sky was red at dawn, so I hastily finished all I had needed to in that day.
The young do not remember a time of heroes and kings who fought for something other than simply law and convention.