Life is a delicate balance. Always, something is ascendent at the expense of something else. These soils - wrought from the bodies of ancient microscopic sea-creatures, fertilized by ages and ages of the frothing biology of microbes, plants, insects, birds, mammals - these soils give rise to wondrous tress. Trees that seem to writhe with life. To some, in tortured, contorted poses. To me - in the embodiment of a type of dance. And when one comes to pass, the grand accumulation of all the materials gained over a lifetime will pass again on to the soils, to feed the mammals, birds, insects, plants, microbes, and of course - future trees. With care, one could imagine the long, long ages passing before your eyes, seasons upon seasons whizzing by, trees growing up towards the sky then falling and returning to earth, over and over again, the seemingly random pattern of life ever repeating, with each instance unique in all of time, an electric dance pausing for a moment, heroically, against all odds, stark against a deep blue sky.
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