Bequeath to me your wisdom of the basics, show me the things you could wish to be, tell me your history so I can hope to see your future.

-Whispers to the hydrogen atom-

Behold a day that I may have become a bit more insightful and of the minds of not the many. I think therefore I am is how that goes right? Some how thinking is not a determination of existence, but to be in the outcome some kind of atomic buildup that gives you thought. We are not a construct, we are a collaborations of timeless endurance and testing. From the plasmatic strikes to the freshly crusted earth, the downfall of the sopheric rain and the consumption of material into the core of this un-named burning spheroid. Water to become its tears and land to become its scars. The acids and the bases mixing in the depths of a blackened sea of putrid Sulphur burning with flames of brazened means. The mixture of atomic structures and the heat of a slowly settling planetoid.

To the time the crust was torn again by a once friend in orbit but not a collective of mass that takes out little home and breaks it once again, soon even that will cool and become the very thing that allows us to be born into existence. The moon, a quiet but essential part of the means of life. To master the tides and to bring stability, the mass that lights our nights with reflections of the thing that creates all things. A star that takes our friend, takes the most wonderful and loving thing ever to exist, our little hydrogen atom into something more, something that is greater then all of us. Turning it into a doorway into the things that life will be born from, planets to be constructed by, that existence is even given the chance have a thought. All from a thing we as a mass have very little understanding of.

Like a loving relative who comes with great wisdom and yet it is misunderstood until our right age to see its worth.

Until Later

Much Love

Your Friendly Ginger From The Woods.