The view spanned portions of three states. You could see the opposite mountain range, and the valleys in between. You could even see the river with the sun shimmering off its surface, if you wanted to. He came to this spot to find peace. Instead his head raced in circles as he looked down at his boots. “No matter where I am, this follows me.” The wind blew and with the rustling of the leaves it spoke, “Every thought is its own well. And the negative ones tend to swirl in circles on the way down. It’s time to look up and create a new well facing in a direction other than down.”
Every thought is its own well
And the negative ones
Tend to swirl in circles
On the way down
-M. Taggart
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