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.
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