I lay motionless on the solid ground and gaze up at the leaves above.
Each has their own individual hue. Their own space in this existence, in this universe. They are there for a reason that no one can see.
The light that I cannot touch, but can feel create patterns everywhere as far as I can see.
The light warms my soul, but the breeze is a sharp reminder.
Comfort is temporary.
Its existence is immortal.
My existence is immortal.