“All that is gold does not glitter,
Not all those who wander are lost.”
― J.R.R. Tolkien, The Fellowship of the Ring
Not all those who wander are lost.”
― J.R.R. Tolkien, The Fellowship of the Ring
I swam, twisting about in this tumbling whirlpool of dead leaves and rotten wood, for days of nights and nights of days. With a mighty crash my world changed, as the breaking of one old tree led to a deafening splash in the darkened corner of my misty forest. Flying through the air, touching other less lively individuals, seeing sky, then earth, then sky, then earth again as I spiraled through quiet autumns air; I deftly floated, having lost the weight of my captivity with the ferocity of my extrication. The place of my landing was not as habit forming like my prior life, it being tumultuous and ever changing. My fellow flotsam rushed by with blurring speed, leaving me chasing them in the disappearing wakes. The journey is mine now, no other soul to see, with haste the pace brings the wonder about what will be, to what is now, and can never be changed. Taking caution by the hand, binding him with cords of excited decision, I tossed him aside. Only the rushing river and the changing seasons accompany me. Soon, I will find what I’m looking for, I’m just so tired of swimming, so now I float.
Opinions Of Eye 