(no subject)
I am the quiet resistance.
I work subtly, slowly, gradually. I work not through one person, but through generations.
Water dilutes. Blood thins. Ages pass.
It churns onward, like a great wheel. Moving so slowly that its progress is barely noticed. The sun rises, the sun sets, and life paces onwards. But each breath is a little different.
I am the collective unconscious.
Revolutions are waged, radical thought is heralded and then crushed. But it seeps in, like water through cracks of stone. Winter comes. It freezes, expands, and then the channels grow.
The rains will come again. Washing away the old and trickling in the new, feeding the springtime plants. The flowers that bloom proffer and then die, fertilizing the next generation.
I am the sands.
The sands that slowly swallow up the great forests, only to return to fertility millennia later. The sands in the hourglass, being turned up and down.
I am prevalent, I am inexorable, I am rejoiced, and I am feared.
I am Change.
I work subtly, slowly, gradually. I work not through one person, but through generations.
Water dilutes. Blood thins. Ages pass.
It churns onward, like a great wheel. Moving so slowly that its progress is barely noticed. The sun rises, the sun sets, and life paces onwards. But each breath is a little different.
I am the collective unconscious.
Revolutions are waged, radical thought is heralded and then crushed. But it seeps in, like water through cracks of stone. Winter comes. It freezes, expands, and then the channels grow.
The rains will come again. Washing away the old and trickling in the new, feeding the springtime plants. The flowers that bloom proffer and then die, fertilizing the next generation.
I am the sands.
The sands that slowly swallow up the great forests, only to return to fertility millennia later. The sands in the hourglass, being turned up and down.
I am prevalent, I am inexorable, I am rejoiced, and I am feared.
I am Change.