The Stone Garden

The Stone Garden.

A Gray river running steadily through through the gray forest,
right beyond the gray meadows.
The gray light of day fills the gray land,
and a gray wind blows through outstretched gray branches.
They move but they don't move.
How could they?
Everything is grey.
Just different parts of the same stone, all set perfectly in the timeless picture of true life.
Nothing ever moves.
Life in full color, and i couldn't see it any more perfectly than i do right now.
Its a gray day, and tomorrow will be the same.
":)

"The Stone Garden"_A prose piece