I lay silently beneath the boughs  looking up at the arteries that filter the sky. It puts perspective on everything. We assume too much and we discover so little in our clumsy lives. 

We want, we always want. We possibly die wanting In our ignorance. Perfection is dictated and we chase what we’re told. All we gain is someone else’s vision, but only because we want to. 

“What makes you happy?” 

The sky at dusk as the birds fly north. The sound of the wind in the highest branches. The roots of the oak underfoot. There’s no ladder I could climb, to match what I hold dear. No rocket built nor planet discovered that surpasses nature’s ability to capture my gaze. 

Peace isn’t a declaration, it isn’t  silence. It’s something that changes your soul.