I want to feel the cold on my neck,
The grass beneath my feet,
And God’s breath in my ears.
Photo by Nathan Dumlao on Unsplash
I hold the mountains if they were my own,
Losing a part of myself in the sunrise;
The cresting warmth against the moody cliffs,
Hugs the snow-capped peaks;
So high they could shake the hand of God,
I sink into the forgetfulness of urban life,
As I fall in love with places,
That I’ve never been.
I thought this would be an allegory,
But I became distracted,
The Sagrada stole my gaze;
I suppose that’s the nature of God.
How many men did he see,
Come beaten down after a tussle with insanity,
Who took refuge from love coming undone,
And the unwebbing of tightly coiled ego,
Frayed and twisted in a such a way,
That a prayer to God couldn’t save his fate,
Such a day laid in wait,
Where blues and golds sprung to stifle his gait,
An assault of conscience,
A ruse of pain,
A bitter sword
Left to strike its bane,
Streams whispering of currents anew,
As the battered soul trudges on with a betrayal
Of taunt and sinew,
And there he laughs glee as the spring’s morn;
The stillness as it quakes under the light’s dawn,
Grooves encroaches his brow,
Sweat nourishes his belly of solitude,
Leaves that have fallen a long time ago,
Brings warmth to concessions only he knows,
As one goes many will come,
To be held by the noon’s sun,
Before coming undone.
I want to escape to the wilderness,
Quiet and healing,
Where alpine air fills my lungs
With the breath of solitude.
The winds shift my thoughts
To a merger whisper.
The howling moon,
Soothes the wounds of foreign lands
Aimless as I am.
I fall into a rhythm of survival,
Of working tools into a beat,
As life conjures beneath my feet.
I think of love,
And if it was ever for me,
And how far do I have to run away,
Before I’m robbed of it’s stinging taste.
As the Earth quiet,
It sings a lullaby,
Stars illuminate as it hums a symphony,
And the rhythmic swaying of tree branches,
Causes me to drift to a land of sublime,
The ground breathes a sigh,
Collecting the memories from a wounded heart,
And transporting it into the belly burned by molten core and gravitation.
Nature is a beast,
That carries us to safety,
Protecting our heads,
From boulders that slip from deep set mountains,
As we’re taken through the tempest,
Shipwrecked and thirsty,
We are comforted by a relief,
To see the beauty of the sun,
As it rises to warm our cheeks.