Contrasts

Hear the grasses rustle. Hear the very air stir. See the waving branches and swaying shadows. See the beautiful dance of movement and counterbalance. Feel the freshness infused in all the life around you, steadily seeping through you to your absolute core. Now open your eyes and face reality:
That dream holds no place here. Hustle and bustle and filth, this is their domain. Hear the multitudinous voices, shrill and shriller, the sound waves battering through your skull, your ears, your brain, crushing all thought and sentiment in their way. See metal doors slamming out sunlight, leaving wavering yellowed lamp rays in poor compensation. See around you only turned backs and cold shoulders, eyes averted ad downcast. Feel the grime encroaching, encrusting you with every touch of the door, desk, and dirty carpet. Slowly suffocating you with every breath inhaled.
See man's mighty marvels by the Lord's glorious works.

People

People. The concept is truly mind-boggling. That these bodies around me carry thoughts, pasts, futures, neatly packaged inside their own skulls. And in those skulls, worlds as vast as mine, universe upon universe upon universe within a few cubic centimeters here, another few there, and a paltry few here, ringing between my ears. Worlds without number. Unfathomable. The intertwines, the overlaps, the skips, the foibles, the misconceptions, the false perceptions. The power. The shock waves caused by single thoughts, single actions, single words. The motives, the buildups to cataclysmic events. Each life a drop of water on a smooth pond, radiating ripples and repercussions until the pond foams, rushes, leaps its bounds. Until the pond is nothing more than a blur of movement and imperfect reflections.
And outside it all: reality. Separate, divided, distinct from its flat reflection in inner space. And yet inside it all, incorporated in everything; living, breathing, growing in the wavy perceptions of tear drops on mirrors, in the ringing thunder of silence, the intangible reality.