Chiyo

The warmth of the rising sun in the east is touched by the soft dawning breeze. The mist is driven back and the sun reflects gold upon the river. Such treasures one can never own. Except in the moment they are caressed and live in the memory of time.
The land belongs to no one and is only loaned to all. The mountains cry to the heavens and the sea weeps her sorrow. What have we done to all that was given to us to protect and cherish? What will be the price to pay?