Thought results from sadness
--its absence from gladness the former as varied as types of leaves creates the myriad types of grief the latter as pure as a summer breeze need only but please and does to the depths of the soul but it plants no seed and does not grow, but withers unlike the mountain brook once set on its cause by something so small as a pebble or ravine quickly becomes a mountain stream and then a river and then it churns a course unhindered by will, halted momentarily or contained, but still, the waters await a vengeance as sure as their own pace and while wildflowers do surely grace our presence here and there repulsed by our thoughts and weary of our ways well worn they stay aloof and seem to know better than we know that their beauty is not our own
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August 2016
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