Posted: Thursday, November 15, 2012 1:25:14 AM
It's a wintry day. I am sitting on my bed, lazily scribbling something down, oblivious to the struggle going on outside my cozy room, the warring elements locked in a battle of wills.
When I look up, everything has gone silent. A shiver runs down my spine. Outside the window is a fierce contest; the wind battles the earth and the air and the sky for control, its icy clutches chilling my bloodstream into a frigid, paralytic entity.
The few remaining leaves on the trees are clutching onto their skeleton-like branches for a refuse from the seductive blow of the wind; the ragged moan of the earth as it shakes belies its tremulous existence.
I am watching nature's strongest battle. The will to live - to exist, to yearn, to be free - is great, no matter how the will of supernatural forces coexists.
They do fall; they do flee; they do disappear, fluttering into the wind. If they lose, how can I expect to win? Nature does not lie.
The answer is, I think, that the leaves grow again. The trees blossom; the shriveled branches of the tree regain their gnarled, ancient stems; the rivulets of rain stop splashing against the windowsill.
They die, they live; they wilt, they prosper.
As does life.