Reflections Before A Storm

Bricks, carefully laid in the ground ; the design isn't perfect but the path is clear. The maze is well kept, the area around the stones relatively free of plant matter. They call it a maze but its hard to get lost when there's only one way in and one way out. Sure, you could merely ignore the stones and leave the path whenever you like. After all, it is just bricks laid in a circular pattern on the ground. It isn't as if its brick walls. Just man-made stone, man-made pattern, man-made labour. What does it mean if at the end of the day it means nothing? If all your hard work is grown over by grass and forgotten about for generations or maybe for eternity? After all, its just man-made...

A breeze touches my face, making me aware of the moisture on it. The temperature is pleasant but the humidity is like a thin layer of moisture coating your skin; sweat by not, too light for sweat. Almost like condensation on a glass or bottle of water. Not unpleasant but not completely pleasant either. Either way, it's bearable. The breeze is soothing, to hear the leaves in the trees rustle together like the continual rub of satin....

It's strange to think of such luxuries when surrounded by such solitude and reflection as this. It's comforting, walking this maze. No matter how different the day is from one visit to another, no matter how you or your friend and family or your clothes differ, a few things are constant. The path never changes, the stones never change, and the completed feeling you get upon reaching the center never changes. When I sit in the center of that maze, every sound produced, whether mechanical or natural, sounds like music...

Lightning flashes across the sky, lighting the heavy blue grey clouds in a spectacular show. The breeze still plays across my cool face and birds and bugs alike make their presence known in a melodious fashion. Thunder rumbles in the distance like a low, gravelly growl and at the same point I hear what could be a rapidly moving train, a distant helicopter, or rain beating on several objects. The sound edges closer, just like the thunder which grumbles in distaste almost over my shoulder. Sounds like we're in for quite a storm...