The black birds flew from branch to tree
The calmness of the evening rang through
And the wind whispered through the leaves
From the window it was viewed by a participant in the big book of life. With its chapters along unfinished but the author did complete it,

the leg throbbed while the elbow worked it's sore muscles.
Over the distance the superiors conversed, sipping tea enlightened by their talk but it was calm, too calm.
They said there was a calm before a storm, it wasn't true, after the calm there was more calm.

Truly wasn't calm what was needed by everyone? I guess it was the nature of human, to want more than eternity.