There is a cabin in the woods of the pine trees where I'd love to go for the writing retreat if I could.
In the backyard I'd sit still, holding my pen in between the lips, and watch the sun hiding behind the tall mountains, reminding me of change and reiki.
In the night I would be perched over the porch and learn serenity from the lake, gleaming in the moonlight while pairs of the partridges would tell me the tales of their pious love. The lone wolf then would howl in the mountains, reciting the ballads of solitude.
In the mornings the peacock would make me realize what beauty looks like and an eagle will incite the passion in my heart.
I would wander in the woods all day long, and would learn the nature of the nature and philosophies of the life.
In the last, I would go to the only oak tree around there to experience what loneliness feels like.