Living beneath the wind,
How easy it is not to reach for the stars.
But sleeping beneath the moon,
How can we not yearn?

Touched by infinity,
Where do we place the next step?
Conscious of eternity,
We must ever go on.

In all of this grandeur, I should feel so small.
Soaking it into every pore,
I wonder.

In all this variety, I must seem so dull.
Watching the intricacy,
I learn.

Beauty comes in all forms.
Solitude is its own reward.