Although a storm was brewing within my thoughts, the armies of various voices preparing for the battle that would soon ensue once out of view of the magnificent simplicity of the surrounding forest, one could but not continue sifting through the cluttered chaos within, while floating on the sheet of rippling water in a pond, freshwater, 12 feet deep, 7 snakes within. The drag and fall of the chest aligned stoical with the lurch and fall of the entire content of water within, seemed to resonate not only my mind, but also life in its entirety.
Within that lonely pit, empty but for the weight of the water, Thoughts, no matter how hard they tried to batter in, could not permeate the fortress of the enemy it had overlooked.
And within that desolate pit, after over 2628000 minutes of restless persistence since the last time, Thoughts lay on the barren nothingness of the battlefield, a white flag reluctantly held up for solace of a few lasting moments.
Within that lonely pit, empty but for the weight of the water, Thoughts, no matter how hard they tried to batter in, could not permeate the fortress of the enemy it had overlooked.
And within that desolate pit, after over 2628000 minutes of restless persistence since the last time, Thoughts lay on the barren nothingness of the battlefield, a white flag reluctantly held up for solace of a few lasting moments.
The Battle of Anghiari, Peter Paul Rubens' version of the original (by Da Vinci).
This is pretty much how I believe the battle ensued after the repose within that pit. And that's when things got normal again.
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