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And the World Keeps on Spinning

Breathe deep. Hold for one… two… three. Breathe out slowly. 

Breathe deep. Hold for one… two… three. Breathe out slowly. Repeat.

Atop a hill overlooking a small town, under a tree whose leaves were fading into vibrant golds and oranges, sat a man. Leaning back on his palms, his head resting back, his eyes shut as he breathed deeply, calmly.

Below, the town bustled with life. Women laughed, companions argued, children played, siblings chased each other, and everyone breathed the same air. Goods, clothes, toys and necessities were bought. Food was consumed and smiles were traded.

People lived. It was chaotic, yet balanced at the same time. As the world was meant to be. A paradoxical quiet and loud moment, bound together by shear willpower and the chaos of the universe. So thick in the air one could taste it, like the scent of baking bread, if one tried.

“This too shall pass.” The man said to himself. To the ancient quiet world around him. Somewhere far below, the earth rumbled, water bled across the land, and animals prepared to sleep and were awoken to the start of a new day.

There were good events and terrible ones. There were celebrations and disasters, but always, always, was there a tomorrow. There were birds singing, flowers blooming, mountains crumbling, and stars burning. It might not be a kind tomorrow, and not everyone who started with you might be standing next to you, but a future is something to work with. To look forward to.

“This too shall pass, indeed.” The man hummed. All things, good or bad passed eventually. Whatever hardships plagued the planet today would pass. Be marked down in history, in memory, because there would be a tomorrow to make certain of that.

The air hummed, possibly in agreement to his statement, possibly in response to the shifting of the planet it had bonded itself too. Regardless, the man nodded, a smile on his lips. He opened his eyes, shinning with youth, but ancient in their depths, and made to stand.

Night was coming, and it was a long way down the man’s favorite hill. It didn’t use to be, he knew, but there were a lot of things that time changed if you waited long enough. Things were always changing, and throughout his years, the man had learned to follow along with the flow. Of society, of life, of the universe.

It made time a little bit easier to deal with.

So he walked down the path he had worn down, breathing deeply, calmly. Humming a familiar tune he went on his way, leisurely, determined and calm. Content that whatever happened next, would pass and go on its way eventually. Hell or highwater.

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