• the land is still for it peacfull the light of the moon lightly shade out the shadows from the distence trees, and the lake not a ripple moves on it surface. no life is herd or seen but only the hot breath from my lungs that evaperate into the cold breze. I stand on the hill looking down at this beautiful land, woundering how do people say this earth is bad when the site is soo gorsess like soft snow flake in the sky that has falling from the gods.