Eternal as the stars

Biorhythm moves silently across living, and life never stops. Back in the crevasses and spaces no one frequents — from the wind blowing leaves down an ancient city alley, out across the train tracks abandoned long ago, down to the microscopic sub-visual world that we share with the unknowing ever present microbes.

(Life being the most precious of human gifts, when time has marched its measured step across the beam, the body stops yet the spirit moves on. So long as this life, which stood upon this, the very earth we now remain upon, this life which has touched and molded our very own lives and showered us with all love and emotion, lives on in the minds, the thoughts of any being that being whether in body or spirit never dies and so becomes eternal as the stars.)

The golden Winter's sun's rays radiate off the early morning grey trees. Beyond, the pale powder blue sky projects only that which ventures across its subzero canvas. Today, as at the start of any new day, life begins for each and all are touched by human emotion. We look upon the outside world from our all so different windows. Yet the sun, the sky, the stars, remain eternally the same. We march to the beat of internal jazz, whatever and however we hear it. Go back to the bare bones days of long ago and see and feel how we have evolved and just where we head to now. The funky forlorn horns that come to make some sense and the movement of the vibes with Salt Peanuts. Sparkling jewels moving on the windshields of the cars below, reflections of all things that pass like a constant stream of life's moments, the limited keys of the piano always finding a new tempo, a new tune, despite no new notes since the beginning of music. Make believe lives made up to suit their owners. See just what you want then declare it to be that way. Change every nine minutes to this, then that. My wife hates birds so don't build any bird houses for her, but don't let that stop you from building a few in the woods for the birds and yourself.