Where does one find the time, i think
My hair rests on my hands
folded gently behind my head,
for the rocky ledge below me is, to say the least
unforgiving.
Or is it?
I sit up and place the walking stick
of my journey, horizontally in front of my
crossed, and weary legs.
My head is immediatly rushed with oxygen
deprived blood, but no longer do i care, for my head is so clear
Touched by these familiar ghosts of my first and only love, i cringe in my own
My wandering and trained eyes look to the horizon, only to be blocked by the view of
many opposing and humbling mounds of energy
and rock.
Soon these eyes, no longer able to contain
introduce themselves to my heart, and they cry in joy.
These mountains are my home, and where I hide from and confront my doubts.
But if only i had you.
Nature gives you gifts, so nature can take away
How small one seems, as your vapors blow
in the crossbreeze on a cliffs edge.
Leaving yourself cool and refreshed,
as if being in the comforting arms of one who truly loves and understands, i come back to you.
Never leave me astray, change my mind as quickly and often as the New England sky, May the wind blow my new found self-lessness in new directions, and may i find happiness, and hopefully you,
wherever i may land. |
Submission Name: Walking Stick
