I want to be there; at that very moment, witnessing the fall and rise of every event. Where the day has begun and night disappear, the early rays are keen to happily appear. Waking the meadows with a gentle pat, the beauties may rise on a colorful mat. Where the river begins its fresh petite flow, abundance of life in its belly to grow. Washing and swaying and smoothing the hard, flourishing the banks at miles and yards. Where silent killers hunt for the prey, hiding in the shadows made by the hay. A life has to end if a life is to live, no soul to stop and no being to grieve. Where wind shrugs the leaves and the due gently flows, Into a miniature colony of tiny being that grows. The fallen have laid a bed of amber foliage, tiny parasites flourishing on a crude collage. Where the sky meets the dark of hollow empty, just floating there in a high is the only duty. The mass is infinite and the objects are millions, finding someone know...