This Too Shall Pass

Grand Canyon of Wisdom

Wind. Snow. All seasons galore. Trails dissolve from the mountaintops. Arrows of air cut bedrocks and walls while naked voices tear silences down. «This too shall pass,» the polar wind calls. «The road upon you is empty now.» Nothing remains below zero. Highness and songs wear out in time. Egos fall down dissolving eons of fabrications. Thus passes the glory of the world.