I got lost in the city. Where did she take me? I can’t fight the words of constant angst and tension that lay within her bones. They are ever pressing on me, over and through me. They are raging inward and outward. What battle are you raging at? What battle can be won?
I am not of the city. I don’t long to hear her drum. Her pain is not my pain; her dirt is not my dirt. She is thirsty, she is hungry, and she endlessly longs for more. She wants of me what I can not give her. So I turn from her and go.
I am of the mountains. My heart yearns for the clean, crisp mountain air, the trickling sound of the cold river’s edge, and the sweet smell of wildflowers and soft forest beds. The rugged mountain peaks, the vast, seemingly barren landscapes at heights that leave you breathless, all these beacon me home.
Yes, I am of the mountains with their view on this world fully immersed in brilliant colors and daily glimpses of the deepest hidden secrets, like that of a simple ray of sunshine that brings warmth, comfort, and beauty where no human is looking and yet still is.
The morning sun rises over the hilltops while birds sing their song, elk graze, squirrels continue their search for winter stores, and marmots peek their heads out to bathe in the light of the morning sun.
Not one of these creatures wonders if today will be different from yesterday or if they matter in the world they call home, as life keeps on in its cyclical way day after day.