The Rolling Mist

As the mist floated gently upon the lake, my thoughts wandered in an aimless procession of randomness.

Why am I here, and for that matter what is my purpose for being?

The ever-present tug at my soul begged for an answer.

A mother sparrow glided to the top of a pine tree and gently laid the final twig down which would complete her nest.

A child giggled as her mother lifted her high into the air.

In the distance, the faintest sound of a train whistle could barely be heard.

“All things are as they should be” was the answer that flashed across my mind.

We are here because we chose to be here, but WE are nevertheless a fleeting moment in time; simply and exquisitely – borrowed energy.

Consciousness lives forever.