Perspective

Lying in a field of sweet grass, gentle summer breezes on your face, the sky above almost endless, filled with the sort of bilious, white puffy clouds children spend hours imagining the shapes of our world in.
Slowly rise into that sky turning to look at where you lay.

Higher now, the earth's curvature, the sky almost black, the horizon's blue brilliance lifting towards the stars as the Earth spins on its axis.

Climb ever higher, the immensity of this planet revealing itself to you. Watch as the curved horizon climbs towards the stars as the earth spins and hurdles through space on its 60,000-mph journey around a sun a million times its size.
And in an instant - a hushed, ancient forest. Your hands on the bark of a 1000-year-old giant redwood. Still, majestic, magical. Its trunk more than twice the breadth of your outstretched arms, reaching skyward, a thousand years, dwarfing you. The bark thick, comforting. Moss wet and gently dripping. Branches far above you quiet in their almost timeless observations. It has been so for a very long time. Long before you were born, and all during your life, here was this tree. Through all the drama, hardship and joy, here was this tree. In all this immensity – here was this tree.