I don't have a complete thought process at the moment.
The fly on the wall. The tree wavering in the sunlit breeze. The call of the wild disguised as a bird's whispering willow. The glisten of a rain drop in a smooth puddle causing the slighest ripple which in a theoretical sense could be causing tornados in Alaska. Green crayons turning yellow with a flick of the wrist in the simplest drawn line. Children as an oxymoron, so big yet still so small. The muffled sounds of purified water flowing down my throat as I swallow.
The obscure ubiquity of existence and it's purpose, if in fact there is one at all.
Draw your own conclusions.
