Now what?

And then.

When the minutes have all tumbled past, run their limited lease, barged headlong through a magnificent dry run.

Then what?

Will these meandering paths change course, or will ancient trees alter the songs that wind, that hefty passerby, chimes out on striking the green paper bells? Will cascading waterfalls forget to ricochet off unseemly barricades, or wanton breezes make way for heartbeats not needed?

Haven’t these fleeting whims taught you anything?

Or perhaps this is exactly what they have taught you.

The soft golden down filtering past azure feathers lighted up the etchings. Brought out the subtle engravings revealed through a too-early shroud.

And made you see.
Your own face, a personification of the same question.

And then.
Then what?