P.A. Wunderlich

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A vast field opened like a blossoming tulip, flowers blooming in the rippling airs of spring. High and frothy trees hugged air and sun as they gallantly cast a shade over the earth. On the horizon a florid vessel of mountains trailed to the never-ending, blue as memories distant, poised as statues embroidered into time’s eternal drift

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When man meets himself upon the reflexion of the mirror, it is always advisable to ask the question "Who are you?". If an unsatisfactory answer comes forth, then one must delve into the far reaches of Self and understand why he failed to answer this simple, yet transcending question