In their absence, the waves swell up at the outer rim and crash upon the shores with sounds unheard of, never heard by anyone. In their absence, flora illuminated itself as it branches upwards towards the sky as if the earth was reaching for the heavens, weeds untouched.
In their absence, the great fallacy of the beauty in isolation crumbles with the turbulence of an impending storm upon our consciousness, and the mystery of the canopy evades any and all forms of perception, in their absence.
Drizzle Downwards 