Babble, babble, what?

Clarity unwelcome when I've
only duped myself; the days
can change in any motion,
but the seasons remain intact.

The trees will grow stronger,
despite the number of rings or
leaves-- it’s the inevitability
amongst the forest land.
The rivers will continue to pull,
water from point to point, slamming
against the rocks and life whom,
unknowingly, block the route.
The need for life to resume, heeding
through the roughage, is visible
and constant.

In some worlds, days
don't stand still, but here-
we stand or move on our
own accord.