While passing my fingers through the wet grass of my childhood's hill, I look down upon the town that gave birth to me. Its houses are peppered all throughout the valley, each keeping their own little candle of life. Funnily enough, I can still hear the church's bell's just as profoundly as up close. Looking up, I get submerged in the night sky tinted by the blue depth of space, bearing twinkles of the stars like badges. Even though the nightly blanket stretches out beyond the hills, the waning crescent's hope makes my stretch of reality as bright as ever. As blood flowing through veins, a cosmic breeze flows throughout the valley, bringing life and scents of flowers, of dew, of nature along with it. The colossal giant's deep whispers were the same as they were years, decades and millennial ago. This sight is raw life, and it is humbling.