Before Sunrise
I had woken before the Sun, stretching above the pad lain between the Earth and my flesh, below the starry sky struggling to retain its place. There are few moments like these; those moments when one power must cede its rights to the other, the moment when champions must submit.
I unzipped my tent, looking down the path I’d yet to travel. I could hear the rustling of squirrels somewhere all around me and the rushing of the stream just west of my awakening. The whiteness of my breath held faint beneath the twilight sky. It was going to be a hot one, but for now I enjoyed the chill of morning coursing through my bones.
Making my way down to the river I marveled at the outline of her banks and the power of her sound. I bent to fill my flask, working out the stiffness of my aging body, longing for the tea and oats this water would help create. Nothing makes me hungry like nighttime in the openness of heaven nor thirsty like the dreams I have in paradise.
I filled my cup and knelt to splash her water on my face. The coldness shook me and raised my senses. One gift she had was peaking my arousal in her various states of being. Cold, she would awaken me. Warm, she would entice me. Hot, she would excite me. Then, she would nourish me while giving me cause to move beyond the momentary sense of comfort toward the uncertainty of moving forward.
There was no one else around. Yet, in the rising of the Sun and the taste of Nature’s blessings, I could not help but wonder if you were here.
On the Trail
The camp now packed the trail began to beckon. When in the throes of Nature’s ecstasy the pack seems light and the aches all seem to vanish. A song spills naturally from my lips, the whistles creating masterpieces only I would hear. The entirety of the world narrows to the trail and, soon, the trail narrows to the place where you are standing. There is no past behind nor a future up ahead. There is only the place where you stand and the sound of footfalls being broken by the echoes of the whistles.
Soon there is no aloneness in the solitude. The trees begin to tell their stories, the flowers begin to share their secrets. I begin to weave a tale to both, silently. Words spill from my heart telepathically, floating through the air to the waiting audience that surrounds me. Poems eek from the drops of sweat now sprouting from my skin. It is not long before the tales of woe are so confessed and repentance is found in their erasure from my mind. I can no longer find the pains of life beyond the trail. There is only love and unity, peace and the wholesome truth of living.
There was no one else around. Yet, in the sweet embrace of Nature and the absolution at Her breast, I could not help but know that you were here.
Lost Among the Wild Ones
One can only marvel at how the wild ones live. Reckless abandon nestles with the cautious arousal of their senses. They wield an unruly passion in their moments and they offer nothing close to an apology. Their wisdom is Nature’s wisdom and their creed is Nature’s creed. They only wish to live until that moment when Nature decides it is time for them to surrender to something greater.
I am but a fly in this place. My mind may have me at the top of the food chain but my body has me somewhere in the middle. It is here that I make friends with my mortality. Around any bend is the moment of my end. There, a beast may be waiting to help me see my place in his world. I will have no choice but to surrender with a fight. The fight is Nature’s way of testing the will of Her subjects. One will win. One will lose. All will know their place among the wild ones.
It is here that I wonder what keeps you in your place and me in mine. The wolf is free to roam. Why not break the binds of man’s invention and find yourself among the trees? Why not just snuggle right beside me and howl with me under the moon? What must one heart do to hear an echo not his own?
Here, there was no one else around. Yet, in the sweet awakening of my dreams I knew that you were here.
Finding Heaven in Our Midst
There are some who are destined to live in the City. There are others destined to live safely attached to shore. Me, I am born to live wild among the beasts of mountain peaks and writing stories to those who wish to know the same. I am born to whistle unwritten songs while shedding dried mud caked upon my skin. I cannot be brought to ecstasy on your concrete paths while living tamely on your upper floors. Put me on the earth, dreaming of ways to pass through summer squalls and I will find heaven right were it belongs.
Imagine for a second you are an angel whose wings have grown. Then you will know me on a trail. Imagine you have painted the perfect masterpiece and you will feel me bathing in a waterfall. We are all born to different pleasures and discover heaven in different ways. We only need be honest with ourselves to find the truth of our belonging. Go there. Find your glory. Be your brightest star.
There is no place for hell in a tribe of honest angels. Some will find peace under between their walls while others will find happiness between walls they cannot see. The sky is my best ceiling, the soft grass is my best bed.
Yet you will find a hell if you lie. An angel of night cannot find joy under the Sun. Be truthful with yourself and find the truth of your heaven. It is in your midst. You just must be willing to know when you have found it.
In my heaven there is no one else around. Yet, in the honesty beating of my heart, I lay down wishing you were here.