Rambling

As the age of man turns the world births and murders great in great circumstance. All the world is nothing but a place where creation is undermined by death and despair. All the suffering is caused by man, nay nature… the nature of which man endures. No matter the place in which you stand, or from either hill top that you sit and stare, the world is ever changing ever dying.. yet forever ALIVE. In the whispers of the leaves and the creaks and squeaks of the expanding bark, as the water dips and splashes while the fish swim beneath. All the world is alive, down to the little iron nail that has been forced into the blank of a porch, no matter the object life is within. Ask any philosopher and they will tell you… how can we ever know if a pebble has a soul…