The Trunk in the Current

Drifting slowly with the current, the waves lapped over the exposed knobs and prods, previously extending effortlessly as branches, now battered and weathered with the decay of time and torrent. A log on the move, having the misfortune, or is it fortune, of having fallen into a river instead of dry ground. The scenery shifts among the hills, valleys, trees, bogs, and the occasional bridge spanning high overhead on the journey downstream. Tossed, turned, banged, bruised, beaten, saturated, the remains of the tree have no option but to continue to move with the water. Yet even with all the change, the tree remains.

Uncounted years from its first peak into the sky as sapling until its demise, uprooted, crashed into the river now miles away never to return. Onward it goes, relenting only to the inevitability of the river. Eventually, this too will pass. Just not yet, and so the knobby cylinder of the tree trunk continues to gaze upon the undulating landscape, accepting its fate and place. Worry and sorrow it does not know, neither does it expect to replant itself in an upcoming branch, to regrow branches, sprout leaves, and see them change once more in autumn's colors. Time for other trees to do so along the banks, with this lone trunk able to slowly drift in their shimmering shadows.

Such beauty exists in the everyday. In birth, growth, decay, and even death. Such is life. It is all around us, slowly moving with the rotation of the earth. The sun rises and sets; so does the moon. Seasons change. We are all adorned with scars and blossoms; each infinitely beautiful. Why worry? Why attempt to deny the inevitable? Rather rejoice, embrace, explore. Embrace the beauty.

Such is life.

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