Metamorphosis

To be a nature myself, I wonder if we are truly close to it. Takes the melting ice cube in the glass of lemonade, in a moment it can dissolve almost instantly and become the perfect lemonade without leaving any trace of it previous existent. The winter ice melted away when the spring wind plays above it surface, bringing to the ideas of rebirth, renewal and regrowth. The ground that covered with ice uncovered just as perfect as the previous season, neither wrinkled by season nor scared by the rush of current that born from the ice itself. If only we could change our anger, regret and pain as fast as the nature (ice cube, winter ice), cleanse our soul perfectly, completely by the stream of consciousness, we would be the master, of all the humble nature. But we are not.

27th December 2010