The Orchid

The Nights Orchestra

The moonlight is less vibrant than the day, but more welcoming. The soft shadows are the only place to hide for those who fear death. The mice scurry cautiously across the dry dirt in search of a late night snack. The crickets menacingly chirp taunts at the hungry mice. It is a mystery to me why the crickets are chirping, because with every chirp they are closer to death. I guess crickets are as humanlike as you can get. We are always indulging in harmful behaviour contrary to the limits of nature for the sheer fact that it feels good to do and every time we commit to these acts we find ourselves closer to death.

    The stars move through the night in glorious fashion. They communicate through brilliant dashes of light. Each illumination grants a wish of nature to remain unpredictable and beautiful. Streaks of charcoal appear as the night predators stealthily glide into the night's catch. Screeches of fear and delight mingle in the air until nothing but the ringing in the ears of the lucky remains.

    Which strikes the question, what does it mean to be lucky? Luck in this world is interpreted as receiving the desirable outcome in any given situation. For most souls all they know is to continue living, yet humans once again break the laws of nature. Some feel that living is not the most desirable outcome possible, instead they look beyond their short lives to what they believe happens after life with no real certainty of truth. Humans are wasting every living moment by fearing something unconfirmable.

    The world itself does not conform to the ideologies of mankind. No matter what scars humans inflict, the world embraces them and moves on growing and adapting. Like the mother bird who lost her chicks, the world knows there is no time for mourning and that's the way of life.

    The soil cools and condenses as the temperature decreases like the ghost of the sun is passing by to insure the safety of it's precious specimen. No safety is guaranteed, for instance, that firefly right there is about to get caught by a bat. The little night terror is moving sporadically, as to not seem suspicious. And the firefly is the slowest and blinks for the longest. No amount of luck can reverse its fate. In juxtaposition, the first fly who searches for the owl's night kill, will inevitably be the first in the widow's web.

    What a curious name for an insect. Nature's cruelty does not objectify women, in the insect world men should be the one's afraid. The widows are not widows by chance but by choice.

    Choice is viewed both as a necessity and privilege so when we lose our right to choose we become angered. However, nature does not discriminate. The choice of one is not for themselves but for another. The indescribably intricate web of dependencies is what makes nature so intriguing. If not for the rapid movement of the ant colony, then the last remaining ghost orchid seed would have been lost in space.