I traverse a path of crimson cascades.
Only for time to guide me to the lux of these stratified white hills.
Gradually life grasped itself to the evergreen, only to soon slumber into the soil.
Beauty it was, yet still is.
As I awoke to a sunrise, or dreary skies of grey - only to walk in awe as I sought out the change.
One day, to open my eyes to a mountain range so bear.
A melodic feeling I felt, soon to a realization the meaning of this divine work.
In this life, comfort holds no tendency to stay, only for metamorphosis to make way.
I noticed a difference in every day as the branches were catching the light, swaying against the wind, or sheltering me from the storms.
I basked in the leaves perseverance eventually for them to descend.
Morose this thought was until the white hills had deliquesced, and life had flourished.
This thought had altered my vision, from death vitality grew.
And soon my journey will continue to revel in the wonder that had been reborn anew.