Sometimes We Worry…

Sometimes we worry too much instead of letting life happen.
I know this because time and again there were movements between people that kept me arched on the edge of my seat.
And then… it all dissolved into a sweet, warm ocean breeze.

So I say again…
sometimes we worry too much instead of letting life happen.
Branches may break off of a tree, but while the birds may lose a nest, and caterpillars fall to the ground, the tree is rejuvenated by the juices it tried to force through a closed, burned out appendage.
The flow of nutrients and vibrant motion excels to a symphony of sunlit euphoria.
Fruit bears plentiful. Flowers increase to feed insects waiting in the shade of its living branches.
The caterpillars that survive reclaim new and succulent life, as their dead replenish the earth. And they are glad.
The birds build new nest for ever waiting creation. And they are glad for the sound foundations under their burdened, aching feet.

So I must repeat…
sometimes we worry too much instead of letting life happen.
We are nature’s burden not its glory. Not its conquest nor conqueror.
For even the rocks change form and context as we look only at its outer crust.
Men still bear the weight of sickness and death. Women still bear children; tell stories, till the soil of hearth and home.
Divided by consequence, we give and take; weep and laugh; sorrow and jest at the folly of what we call Earth.

Yet we are glad.

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