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Winds of Change

The winds flow playfully and unchecked around and through chambers of time. They have blown this way throughout millennia. No one knows where they come from or how they are created.

Instruments to measure, record, and track time were but thoughts and dreams of a conscious mind waiting to become many centuries away. Time as we know it would relentlessly march on until man came into being and create these instruments.

The wind still blows as it will, sometimes strongly and occasionally softly. Our Planet Earth continues to spin rapidly in space.

In the limitless vastness of space, time as we understand it becomes irrelevant due to the tremendous distances between us and other galaxies. Consider this: We are all space travelers, spinning in the endless ether of stars and other planets without number. I think it is funny that we are looking for space aliens! I wonder if they would view us the same way?

Eventually, we as a species will venture even deeper into space in large numbers. It will be a necessity due to dwindling finite resources brought on by an ever-increasing population. Time and necessity will bring about this change.

Meanwhile, it is better to enjoy the changing seasons on our beautiful Terra Firma, along with its rain, wind, sunshine, or snow. Life will unfold with each new day, bringing forth new sensations, trials, and challenges. Take time to absorb and enjoy your life to the fullest extent possible. We are all on this planet. All is well, so sit back and enjoy the journey.

We only make this trip once. Peace be with you as we travel through space.

The Winds of Change are still blowing.

 

Winds of Change

This poem comes from Autumn Leaves:

 

Icy fingers on my spine,

Premonition of thoughts sublime.

Unknown fear entering on-line,

Tomorrow’s daydream, yesterday’s rhyme.

 

“Explain this feeling of mine,”

Command I of my brain,

“That has come stealing, creeping,

Cold and frozen up my spine.”

 

Searching all the hidden places,

Recalling memories, hazy faces,

Sifting, sorting, ever recalling,

Striving for an answer so evasive.

 

Then my brain, always kind,

Answered the question on my mind.

“This eerie feeling, troublesome, strange,

Is but the hard, cold winds of change.”

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