the conscious jungle in incredible balance was being watched and could be seen breathing. On several levels. The explorer topped a ridge and sat in the most and truely exqisite rock and earth throne simply by stopping and turning around and leaning baclk

round, leaning back,
yes, incredibly breathing, inredibly breathing. He took out his sixteen hundred by twelve scope from his net pack, uncapped the magnificent instrument and tried to steady it on a knee as he brought both of them, his knees, up to level of his nose by descending into a crouch. The mists below moved. He watched and listened. Just like a slow motion ocean, rolling up on the sands of the tree tops. Swirling slower than a normal breath, so far, so much. infinite perfect returns. Balance seeking itself. And through another set of tiny holes through the flesh of clouds that coverd the sinews and veins of trees and trails and leaves , and all clothed in a morning sky almost the color of blood, like blood, almost. And unless you looked for two point pi moments you did not notice them, the elephants, because they did not seem to move. But they did , they were, and as the now intrepid explorer took his hat off by leaning his head back and up a little so the slope behind him caught it and when he leaned foward it fell down his back, until caught by the thong around his neck. It was under his dirty collar. He paused and rubbed an eye. Took a breath. settled himself and tried to focus in on one of the moving darknesses beneath the brightening greens. "balance" he said to himself in the tone of a child and zoomed in.