Nothing Like This

There is nothing so real, so perfectly real, as feet in the dirt and hair in the wind.  Oh, to throw one's head back; hair flowing wild.  Not a care in the world; at least those remembered.  Face in the sun, and eyes on the mountains.

  Nothing so blissful, so perfectly blissful, as laying in the grass staring at the sky.  The blue, blue sky.  Listening to the birds chortle in the trees.  Oh, to sing as they do! To praise and rejoice as they do.  To enjoy life as they do. There is nothing, no nothing, as refreshing as lying down among the wild flowers; shooting stars and yellow bells, concentrating on the thoughts and breathings of the heart.  Remembering good times of old and anticipating those yet to come.  Never is there a time other than this when one truly knows who they are, who they wish to become, and what they long to do.  There is nothing that communicates the murmurings of life better than this.  No nothing.  Nothing, I tell you.  Not one thing.