Entry 118

What makes clouds so beautiful? And why can photos never do them justice?

Forever Searching

The clouds,

Heavy with unshed tears,

Float over the world, waiting for a reason to cry,

Or perhaps someone to cry for.

The leaves on the trees

Rustle in the wind,

Shaking, clinging to their branches,

Holding on for their lives.

The grass below them

Ripples with the breeze,

Each individual blade a free soul of its own.

Why can't society slow down

And take a look at the beauty of the world?

Why must people only think of their own lives

And their own problems

And of material things?

Isn't there anyone out there anymore

Who can appreciate the world's natural wonders?

Simple beauties, like the sky, the trees, the grass.

Many would just scoff at the idea of these things,

And they are the people who are damaged the worst

By today's society.

I am forever searching in this world

For the most serene, peaceful, beautiful place

And every day a new imagine of what it may be

Forms in my mind.

I will never find the right one,

Because there are so many options.

The real world is so beautiful; the natural world.

I wish I could go back and see what the world was like before we tore it down.

"Forever Searching," (c) Rebecca Grapentine, July 3rd, 2011