Slowly leaning down, the old Indian reached to the earth, scraping a thin layer of dirt off of its surface he held it up, letting it trickle through his fingers, watching the earth as it fell, affected by the breeze and scattering across the ground. Slowly, he rose upwards till he was standing straight.
Looking out over the edge of the cliff he saw the great mountains in the distance, but a shadow to the eyes. A little closer, a flurry of trees, a mix of greens, bright, dark, even some with the flickerings of colour. Each tree had a different height, a something that made it different from all the others. Something that made it special. Somehow, he thought about how others didn't realise this, how they didn't realise that all were special in their own way. All were special in different aspects.
The Indian's eyes moved over the forests, focusing on each of the many different aspects of the forests before they met the life of the forest. The great waterfall that fell. It seemed endless at times, constantly falling, only to come crashing down at the bottom, a beautiful sight, but dangerous if underestimated. As he watched he felt the breeze pick up, changing direction as his black hair, now streaked with the greyness of age flicked before him, slowly he turned, facing the wind. Slowly moving closer to the cliff's edge he spread his arms, accepting the breeze and the world for what it was. A truly amazing thing.
Slowly, he tilted forwards, not falling off the cliff, but gracefully leaving its surface. Faster and faster he plummeted downwards, still his eyes didn't open, still he made no move, no sound. The wind fluttered past his ears with greater and even greater speed as he hurtled towards the earth below.
A breeze flew over the trees, a wonderful sound of rustling as it drew closer and closer to the cliff, it was like a wave, hitting against the cliff face the breeze flew upwards in an amazing invisible dance with the earth itself. An eagle let out a screeching cry as it rose higher and higher, the glinting of its steely eye much like that of the Indian. He had come to terms with what things were. And in turn... he had become part of what things are.
Stumble!
