I hope I never get tired of the night sky, of thunderstorms, of watching cream make galaxies in my coffee. This world is ugly. I hope I never grow to be someone who can no longer see the small beautiful things.
The sky is like the biggest “thing” we will ever come across. This world is beautiful.
The cracking of dawn over snow peaked mountains. It’s so quiet up there, but the energy of the mountains runs roars like thunder.
Rivers and valleys run as vains, the creeks and steams their capillaries. Every drip, every waterfall cascading into our beautiful existence.
Everything is alive, everything is touch by the warmth of the sun, everything from big to small.
The small things are just as wonderful as the big, you my friend are alive, experiencing the world in all its glory from the galaxies above to the way the sand is washed up on shore. Everyone, everything holds beauty, its all monumental.
