Of the countless shapes in the sky, of all the planetary figurines and energy-bursts and chunks of rock orbiting in this reality of perpetual motion…
I chose you.
Or maybe you chose me.
Either way, I am utterly content with the decision, sitting underneath the elderly tropical tree sitting in front of a horizon that cradles both the countless shapes in the sky and the seemingly insignificant speck of civilization, whose existence only becomes relevant when its church bells toll, its bus drivers become impatient, or its animals compete in high-decibel contents.
Even still, you are contrasted by the magnificence of perpetual motion, of tectonic plates colliding to form the acne of the Earth, beautiful and menacing pillars of creation tossing fire and ash to the wind like sacrifices to the spirit of whatever the hell made you.
I feel your power from so far away, and even though I am nothing but a speck of the speck of civilization, sitting on a mountainside under the elderly tropical tree, I am instilled by your majesty. I am in awe of your connection to the Earth and to the countless shapes in the sky, to planetary figurines and energy-bursts and chunks of rock. I am in awe of your living evidence as to where we came from, as a constant reminder to the beast that is nature.
There is nothing but respect from me, to you, and I want you to know that. This is spoken not out of fear or mercy but understanding. Understanding that the sheer sight of you is an honour to our mutual existence - you, the towering, formidable giant, the ode to the skies and the temperamental gift from the earth, and I, the world’s wondering wanderer.