Metaphors of Personalities

Every machine and system has a glorious begining. Paraded around, talked about, and glorified. But its slow and seemingly invisible decay starts at the very begging. Blemishes are spotted in the systems. Faults are found in the machine. Slowly but surly, every single system falls about, leaving the country to run rampid and anarchy to ensue. Evey machine fails, leaving the user helpless and stranded.

Every mountain has a story. A grand and amazing story. They start as nothing, but do indeed steal the stage with their impressive entrances, leaving the other actor to plot revenge. They seem tall and mighty, but like everything with a start, they end. The rock is worn down by the most inconceivable matter. Water, wind, dust. The combination of the three harmless items can wear the face of a mountain, and crumble it whence it came.

Every star that burns bright, every fire leaping about all are put out. The start burns itself out, like a greedy business man. The fire, consuming everything it can without second thought, starves itself, down the coals who hope for the slightest of wood. They turn grey. Grey and boring like the stormy clouds. Every star, as conceited as they are about their light, loose it all. They fall in on themselves, loosing any sign of life.

Every oak a small sapling, but over decades of slow and continuos growth they became strong. They shelter and feed others who cannot shelter and feed them selves. With open arms they welcome the creatures of the forest, they harbor the forgotten. The oak, is what I strive to be.



Zachary Broder Johnston