On the path where I walk with my dog, someone had
given life to a dead tree. This morning, a dragon looked over the path.
Volcanoes wake up hibernating mountains. Memories
make us dream again. And mirrors reflect upon our changing faces over time.
Or, are mountains simply dormant volcanoes? Do
dreams remind us not to let memories in the past? And, do our aging faces hope that
mirrors, one morning, would reflect back the spark we once had in our eyes?
No matter. On that path the now dragon-shaped old
tree is just a dead tree for my dog. But a moment of reflection for me.
December 23, 2021
© Vahé A. Kazandjian, 2021
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