AdriTheDreamer
On a carousel spinning around,
His mind drifted off from the playground sound.
But if there is nothing kept him bound,
Why does his thought keep coming back around?
On the canvas there were some spots. Some circular, some splattering, some irregular. Some coloured, some dull.
Perhaps not *some* spots. The canvas was full of spots.
And the spots were unorganized, yet with harmony.
I do wonder why someone left a note next to it, that all spots should have looked the same.
There was, once upon a time, a few mounds in the area around where I live.
The city developed, and they do not exist anymore.
The names of the mounds stayed, but I wonder if anyone remembers the mounds themselves.
Sometimes I look up the sky and wonder, why do stars shine?
The science-y side of my consciousness explained with atomic fusion, but I always wondered if the stars thinks the same.
Do they shine for themselves; or do they shine for us, the observers, to see and ponder?
Move.
It is the only way forward. Move your body; move your mind; move your mindset.
Don't stay. Nothing stays still in this world.