When night sets in place, the crickets are inspired to song by the darkness. When the frogs and all other nightly creatures find their niche, they gladly offer their part in this symphony. When the stars hang over us, twinking with laughter over my comic misery, the willow leaves are dancing somberly in the passing wind. So why is it that I, a human, am the only one who is still?
I huddle and exclude myself from these subtle activities. It is then, when my sorrow spirals into infinity, that I know the answer.