From this lofty height the view is skewed by, not the obvious, but by the trans-formative winds of another day. And the landscape looks solid and serene, yet the sands beneath shift continuously against solid footing.
Sometimes, from up here, what appears as a tiny insect is, in fact, a rather large friend. Or foe. You never know until they come close.
Sounds are glorious when mixed with sunlight and blue sky and rainbows and wind; And, yet, there are days when the music can't be heard over the noise. Sometimes, it's like this. Up here.
The perch upon which I stand is but a mere twig, easily broken by the harshness of life. But, I imagine, it'll be just fine.
To rise is to ride upon the wings of the unseen and to trust those wings will carry you safely on.