Once upon eons ago, there lived a very wise sage. He was an old and very experienced soul. He lived in a land that was wrought with troubles of all kinds. People were helpless, ignorant and highly confused lot. The rulers too did not know how to handle the utter chaos floating around them.
I love the quiet, lazy, hot and sunny summer afternoons. I welcome any excuse to stop what I am doing and sit on my old oak rocking chair that I have placed on my newly painted wrap-around porch. We had purchased this oak rocker last summer at a Flea Market in a small quaint town about forty miles from my home.
Everybody and everything tells or shares a story. Every brick, every stone, every rock, every flower or nature itself tells a story. Every ruin has a story to tell of its past. Every place has a memory to share. Every object speaks of a tale of its existence. The sands speaks of its once upon a time being part or the mountain itself. The natural formations talk about the travels of the wind. The rivers talk of its journey from snow to the sea. The trees talk of its childhood as a seed. The food, cuisine and drinks tell us from where they were born. The jewels, coins, and hidden treasures talk of its rich past. The minerals and soils talk of its extractions. The fossils talk of its existence. Every cloud, every rain drop and snowflakes tells us stories of its fine designs. Every grain, every bush and plant talk of their ages.