Perspective
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What if you had a hundred arms that you could lift up to the heavens? What if you lived to be two hundred years old and stood in one place as the world changed around you?
What if birds perched on your wrists and sang in the morning? Or built homes on your shoulders and raised their young there?
Would you be afraid of tomorrow?
Would you dwell on your yesterdays?
Or would you long only to stretch higher and farther and to welcome the wind? And to revel in the rain and the white, sparkling snow? And to dance beneath the sunlight and the bright moon and twinkling stars, and to be so very glad just to be?
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