Good morning creatures of thought and the ones who have costumed thought to be the crown we all wear. Sadly I wonder if the crown has been there so long the pewter that lies under the gold plating has become a leaking poison into our consciousness. That the iron rings of counsel and to show the iron will, now rust and slowly begin to rot the being from inside. Iron will has now become the death of beings who still hold desperately hold onto the crown that all the gold has fell off and allow the pewter to be held straight to our hearts.

Has the world become tired and worn, I think not but we have aged it in ways that never before has come to cost. As beings with thought and communion we have become huberous in our religions that say we we made along side these current creatures. That we have things inside us that make us more godly then them. That we have a connection to a being that sees us more important then the creatures that have turned this land to homes long before us. Yet these homes they have for time before told, has done less then we have done in 100 years. Are we so great when we claim dominion over a kingdom that has long been here before us, we have taken the castle meant for the many now we have taken it for the one.

It sometimes comes to my mind that when hearing the wolves how, when I hear the vastness of the darkened wood land. It is us who have not become aware of things long before we ever should have smelted our first nail. The wolves howls are not cries to hunt, but the call out to all others who hear it that family is still there, far and close. That the caw of the raven is the call to not just their own, but to all birds of carrion to come and feast. The cute tweets of the song birds are simple songs of the glory of being, the call to others that the worms are fat and plentiful. All things we never call out to each other in our own ways. Never has the time of humans left us with such little humanity. A cost is on a bill we cannot afford yet the rest of the living world will pay for it in flesh and tears.

Those thoughts are not just with my own being, many have thought this over the years that we count in the thousands. Yet these thoughts have never passed the mind of a nature that knows its place and asks for no crown, for leadership to them is the wind and storm, it is the sun and the moon. They realized that long ago, progression without the mind is suffrage of all cost, it is a path that only leads to death of all.

Head the call of the wild, for when it becomes silent, that is our call to our death.

Much Love

Until Later

Your Friendly Ginger From The Woods.