Deirdra Irving  |  2 min read


Change is the only constant.

That is something I’ve concluded when observing the simple

as well as the complex.


in actuality

is the same?

The world spins on its axis,

but that has not  always been so.


Although a personal view,

I don’t think that it will, forever.

What is forever?

This is something we’ve constructed in our minds,

A purely theoretical cushion for our deepest discomforts.

We fear what we do not know,

And we fabricate answers to questions that cannot be answered easily.


I see change,

constant change,

in the mist that peeks through the trees,

rises from the earthen floor,

and wraps around trunks and branches.

Rolling through the cracks it finds,

it is distorting and warping.

Animals prod ground with their claws.

In frantic attempts to survive,

land is uncovered.

Dirt is moved,

whether by an elephant or an earthworm.

Change is in the trees.

We see them grow from seeds into saplings;

from saplings into monsters and protectors of the forest.

Leaves grow and fall,

Decay, their fallen bodies sheltering creatures.

Their corpses turn to soil.

Their cycle is reborn,

always changing.



tall branches grasp the air from the ground.

Perpendicular boughs reach their skeletal selves into the fog.

Leaves are scarce.

What is in the mist?

More questions?

I believe …

that nothing in our world will ever stay the same.

I don’t fully understand why

this is often a concept difficult to conceive.

Uncertainty whirrs past the slender carcass of the tree.

It whirrs past all of them.

The forest is one large organism.

A world within a world.

It functions as a whole.

And in the black and white of the forest,

there are innumerable shades of gray.

The fog blends with the foliage;

the horizon is forgotten somewhere between space and Earth.


Somewhere in this world

I lost myself.

Somewhere in this forest I found it.

I do not believe there is one almighty answer.

I don’t believe that we as individuals can be described in a word.

We are billions of ideas and creations.

We are the mist that rolls in sheets across a field.

We are hidden.

We are the tall trees that stand after beating upon beating.


we fall,

but there are always more who stand.


In hearing the forest,

we can hear life.

There is a heartbeat in a forest

And in the black silhouette of the trees,

much like the heartbeat of an animal.

Much like the heartbeats of us.