How is it that we seek peripheries in order to find the center?
Life is hard. We draw the scarf tight around our heads, fold close our arms, and struggle against the windy howls: responsibilities, relationships, survival, and the pleasure we stack against the darkness. Few observe the landscape or feel the stony ground; fewer let the streams' whispers trickle the ears.
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I have seen the cosmos in the reflection of a pool. I have seen the end of the world, and those who stand against it. I have seen the fall, and traced its descent. I have come back running.
But always, though fire, stone, or slicking mire lay before me, I hear the soft, patient voice of crystal waters. For wherever I roam, they gently whisper, "I love you."