Witnessing Wisdom

The old man sitting with a crystal in his ear, long grey hair curling around his worn face. He knows something I don’t, and as I sit by his side with the cool September sun on my skin, I caught a glimpse of the eternal stillness, the infinite rushing winds and the ever-spinning worlds. To sit and be still, in the face of it all, like an unassuming creature that basks in the light of a new day.