Pulled back, ready to fire, the arrow laid almost peacefully and relaxed on the bow string and between the archer’s fingers. Slowly the fingers unpinched themselves from the tight rope, and with a quiet hum the small sharpened stick went whistling through the air. And in that instant, everything stopped, the sword in the middle of a downward chop on its way to execute froze midair, the bird that flew over the square didn’t get a chance to finish its downward flap, the leaf that swayed in the smallest of breezes hung in the balance. Nothing was more picture perfect, and it was all because of him. The man hiding within the tree. He had stopped the archer, executioner, the leaf, the bird, the squirrel that was leaping from branch to branch, the ant making its way out of a tunnel, the babe that was crying, the mother who tried to shush her baby while holding back tears of her own, the single tear than was dropping from the man’s face who was about to be executed, it was all stopped. He stepped out of the tree, the bark moving out of his way. This man had no name, and yet all the names in the world. He was known as life, as death, as balance, as chaos. As god, as satan, as love, as hate. This man was everything, and nothing. His existence was known and yet unthought of. He was worshiped, and hated. This man was now stepping onto the frozen grass, it didn’t bend under his weight. He stepped into the silent world, and  slowly, he walked over to where the execution was standing still. He saw the pain in the executioner's face, the pity and grief in the eyes hidden behind the mask. Putting a hand on the burly man’s shoulder, he put the warmth the man needed into his frozen body. Then, he bent down, and picked up the tear that was once falling from the face of a man who was about to be slaughtered.  He carried the tear over to the babe, and carefully put the tear in the babe’s outstretched hand. Of everything happening in the world, he was at this spot, changing small things. He was adjusting life, he was putting things into balance, while destroying equity of the moment. He kissed the forehead of the crying woman, and made his way back to the tree. The trunk opened up to envelop him. It welcomed him, then slowly it closed again.

Time once more continued. The arrow shot true, hitting the executioner, only a moment after the head was severed from the man. The babe was screaming, sensing death was there. The women screamed out in pain as well. The leaf fell peacefully to the ground. The squirrel landed safely on the branch. The bird continued to fly over head. The ant poked his small head out of the hill. Now as everything came to an end, it almost seemed peaceful. Even with the screams of pain and protest, it was balanced out with simple actions coming to an end. The leaf was key. The leaf that now laid softly on the ground made everything alright. The moment was complete, this one second in the river of time had passed. There was no going back, only forward.