• The wind grew. It tickled the long and skinny tree, his children mingling in the breeze. The tree rustled and whistled and played with the gentle careen. His children danced, their colors blended, twisted and turned, ruffled and hued, his children danced.

    The wind fought hard through the town, looking for fun.

    There, there, the swish whispered.

    The swish laughed and giggled, chuckled and chimed. Chimed, he found his friend. This friend had been abandoned, for the swish swirled around and around. The red strings flipped and flopped merrily, say, gleefully. Now they laughed, and they too giggled and chuckled. What was attached to that red string? That string gave freedom, unlike the ones bound to a puppet, or perhaps a puppy. This red string gave freedom to the bells that were attached to their ends, the bells that chimed with immense happiness and flowed along the waves, tinkling and twinkling in the rushing air.

    The wind played and played, with the long skinny tree and his children, and the red string that only allowed freedom to those bells whom sung in excitement.

    But, what happened to the human that came across this magic?

    Nothing happened, because it was nothing.

    Sure, it’s logical that the leaves would move, and sure it was logical that the wind chimes would jangle, so what’s the meaning?

    Nothing. Because it was nothing.

    The trees would move and the wind chime would make noise.

    So what!

    So what?

    Nothing, because such things does not matter

    They’re just just.

    Can’t you see?

    Such things will never matter.

    Not anymore, and that human, that human would stare, and his breathing would stay the same, and that human’s ears couldn’t hear, or feel that sensation the wind created for the tree or the chime.

    Can’t you see?

    Such things will never matter.