Dangling flowers over the roof top, singing the song of my grandfather, time is meant to end, he died, and said," What ends are your concepts, us, trapped in time, can never end." Dancing leaves against the window, explaining the truth of time, it is in silence, where we become what the leaves are seeking, the living portrait of love. As we think, we believe we are in motion, as we act, we believe we have intention, as we believe, we are trapped in lies. What if what we think is motion, doesn't move, what if what we think is static, does move, are we able to distinguish reality from perception, truth from concepts, love from egoism? What if what we think is intention, has been planned, in this complex world, daring imagination of the universe, what could exist without the perfect planning of nature?