I lay on the damp Earth and the grasses tremble above my head, they too are breathing. The grasshoppers click their legs in melodic delight. The sun shines thickly upon my skin and I receive its warmth.
Is this what it means to give? To give just to give? To shine light upon every object equally with no preferences or discriminations? To give because it is our nature to do so?
The peonies unfurl as they drink in the light. In the pasture, a collie sleeps under a pool of golden luster. The elm trees grow upwards to this source that offers sustenance.
The sun does not beg for reciprocity. The sun does not demand the Indian ocean or the Alps love him back. The sun does not dry out from spreading its brilliance over worldly terrain.
I wish to be like this orb hung upon the sky; giving, giving, giving, and never depleting in energy.
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