My view of the world is partially clouded. I sit tucked away where the trees diligently sway but never snap. It’s that time of day when the sun starts to fatigue, slowly dropping towards the horizon and casting a haze upon the overlapping mountains. The golden glow of the impending dusk transforms the leaves to a deep but lively green, and the waning breeze sends them dancing and glittering the ground with dappled crystals as the enchanted sunlight is poured through them as if tipped from a glass.

I am in clear sight, but my reality is tainted.

We live in a small world that is yet too large for us to understand entirely, for the trees are the only true protection I need from what threatens me: the daytime sun. But is this really the case? I can’t say that I feel guilty for this realization, but there’s a part of me that yearns for understanding. An understanding for the purpose of murderous thieves stealing the lives of innocents who were just truly in the wrong place at the wrong time. An understanding for the hunger that plagues, not just families, but entire countries while people are able to throw entire meals away because satisfaction was not found in the preparation. An understanding for what it means to be truly thankful for the blessings I’ve been granted when brave men have died in third world countries just to provide an education for their daughters, but I merely complain at the notion of rising early for class.

It’s ironically cruel how such beauty and such carnage are able to exist in the same world at the same time, and it’s startling to think of the premise that society resides in with no indication of rousing. I’m afraid that too frequently I paint a picture with my words, and not of the beauty of the sunshine that is right now striking my page, but of the folly of those who stand by, oblivious to the bombs that fall and the cries that ensue.

By no means have I done enough to make any kind of difference, but I am not oblivious, and I think that is a start. I will gladly close my eyes and let the breeze that we all share wash over me as I listen to the song it plays in the tall grass. I’d like to imagine, to hope, that there is someone out there in a place where fire has replaced the sun, blasts have replaced the breeze, rubble has replaced the landscape has found a place of tranquility, tucked away somewhereto watch where the sun starts tofatigue. It can only be a calm within the storm, but if it’s enough to grant reprieve from a life of eternal yet graceful suffering, then I can live with knowing that I’ve at least thought about what’s wrong with my view of the world.

It’s easy to go through life allowing naivety to shield us from the heartache that so many people must live with, but with living comes empathizing. It’s not until we allow ourselves to face the harshness of what reality now has come to be that we can truly lead fulfilling lives. You can’t truly appreciate the experience of life if you don’t open your eyes to see. Likewise, you can’t really live if you only know one half of it. It's sickening to know that we are all in danger of the reality of society, but it's even more so that so many fail to admit it.