In times of struggle and suffering
the philosopher sits on a rock and
contemplates the state of existence.

The chaos ensues but he remains unfazed
as he understand this too shall pass; all the
people run amok, trying to get their bearings
and yet fail to see what the philosopher understands
like a child does his favorite snack or toy.

The clouds turn black and the gods become angry
with the people's negligence and disrespect.
There will be no harvest this season nor will
there be rain.

There will only be dark skies and short and
cold days ahead. All the plants will die and the
animals will go into hiding until better days
show themselves.

The philosopher understands this as the flow
of life where everyone else sees death and
disintegration. 

The philosopher gets up from his rock and
walks over to a tree, and lays a cold hand
on the trunk and feels the ever beating
heart of nature as she tells him that this isn't
the end but the beginning of another year.

The leaves and seasons of old are now dead
and gone and none can bring them back.
The demons that run amok, destroying her
and yet enjoying their time in her sun are
finally getting what they deserve.

The philosopher nods in understanding and
goes back to sit on his rock, witnessing the 
state of existence shift and change as the 
paradigm of the world begins to embrace
consciousness.