Laying on nature’s floor, breathing in fresh air, feeling the pollinated breeze over my face, being next to the green plants and trees, accompanied by bugs and bees
Letting time pass by, fast or slow, with the fluctuating clouds above
I don’t care.
This is my meaning of life.
Another year, and the birds are still riding the river on a floating sheet of ice. How awesome it must be to be them; enjoying the fresh outdoors while hanging out as a group with fellow flocks-mates.
Just travelling on a mission together, sitting and checking out the cool scenery together, flying about and getting business done together…
Having a purpose in life.
(These birds a year ago:
They say you should “appreciate the finer things in life” like “enjoy the annoying company of people around you” or “don’t look at your phone while walking– look at the marvelous hoard of strangers in front of you” or “don’t put your headphones on when you’re outside, you should appreciate the beautiful screaming of people.” They say, “Don’t avoid people” but then again,
I see him coming through the revolving door with the familiar face of a lover, and like catching a whiff of fresh air,
I drop every worthless thing that I’m doing, and breathe.