Imagine a glade

deep in a forest,

moonlit blades of grass

stretched between

the trees you caress

between your feet

Soft chirps, hushed steps

dance amongst the green

Ambient light streak

between the leaves

Whispers of branches

rustles its arm

In this moment

you believe in magic

The air gently takes you

The wind guides you

above the shroud

and into the stars

but rather than look up

you look around

The shades of dark

mingle with the lights

this night has to offer

Mountains cast barriers

on your horizon

not obscuring

but reassuring

in their presence

You see an aurora

flicker behind

pillars of ice

The white blends

with the night

casting a gentle blue

A measure of rainbow

weave in its plane

and although

to the untrained eye

it is only lines

of black and white

To you, it is a glade

Its beauty limited

to what you see

in your creative mind

Everything has a value. It must have. Otherwise why do we bother making them? But sometimes, we lose interest in things. Lost to time as we move on. New ideas catch our eye. A VHS player is a good example. Hell, even a dvd player is useless now a days. But there never really is useless. It is an arrogant view of deeming somthing as unworthy, just because it has no significant value to us at the moment. Because we have computers to type we don’t need to write with our hands. Because we have the internet we do not need textbooks or dictionaries. Before we know it we will deem our legs as useless, seeing as machines have already started doing the walking for us. With all these things we put value to and in the same breath lose interest in, I look back to see the littered pile of uselessness in our wake. And I question myself, who is all this useful to if not for us? If we were to evaporate into thin air tomorrow, what creature would benefit from any of this? So I ask, do the things we create ultimately end up useless? Or are we?