birds, the sometimes-silent sometimes-singing watchers and doers of Earth, are life's constants, your relative minutiae of infinitude as projected into the external.
wind, sometimes-invisible sometimes-suggested-by-tree-branch-movements, is the unchanging universe.
so often do i find myself torn between something like two possible worlds.
much less often do i allow this opposition to combine as nothingness.
life is so vast, it carries the opposite in itself osho (1930-90)