I imagine large expanses, hills rolling like wrinkles in a carpet. Trees cover the green tapestry, creating a scape of wolves and monsters. A rugged place, daring me to prove myself worthy. I hike out of my car, this metal box keeping me from the smell and feel of the woods from which we were all born. The mist curls its fingers around the tree trunks like they are a gear shift, and it wants to go faster. But for now I take my time, knowing speed will come when I need it. The colors are dim, but the deep earthy tones are rich in a refreshing way. The mountains call me with their mystery, their secrecy, their vastness. I am in awe at how quickly my heart has begun to ache for the amalgamation of my body and this quiet part of the world. The wild undertone of me yearns, begs, pleads desperately with my body to run with the pine trees and forget civilization. In juxtaposition is my mind, yet the air breathes a new courage into my lungs. To be cold and make a fire to feel the heat, to drink when thirsty and eat when hungry. These cravings are imperative to our core, pushed back to make room for man made needs. To dance around the flames and sparks with only the beat of my heart, loose and unbrittled in my dance. To need only basics and become one with the animal we all keep inside. The snow falls around me and I look up through the trees to a sky of nothingness. There is peace here. The trees draw tall around me, like sleeping giants. Frozen is my resolve to never cage the beast I have let loose of myself, uncontained in this body of mine. There is a freedom that only comes when who we were meant to be is indulged. That itch you feel under your skin? That fire burning behind your eyes, screaming in your ears to let go! Run as fast as you can because if you don't then what will become of you? This is it. Here, I am a born again. Here I am wild.
An old building, dim lights. dust and crickets. The silence snapped in half by my footsteps and the sound of whispers. Backlit windows, staircases and little places to be alone The crumbling wood filled with carvings and stories of those past. Stained glass and restored chairs welcome the hollow parts of me, filling them up. Ivy curls around the gutters, and the windows are enclosed by by bricks. They have no glass, but are filled with branches and leaves and tiny bug life. The fire escape leads to the roof, staircases lead nowhere. My urge to run a hand over the carved railings is irresistable. The library whispers louder and louder. Old books, drapery and mismatched chairs hidden behind a do not enter sign. Secrets are everywhere here, but you can’t check them out. The sun rises and the cool breeze finds me in a blanket on a balcony. The sun floats down through holes in the rafters. I am like a bird on a branch, peaceful and about to take flight. I hold hands with a feeling I cannot ignore as I skip down the mural covered hallways. Something that blossoms in dark alleyways bids me to be one with the wonder we so suppress today. And I do, because here, alone, I am safe to be whoever I want. Who else would I be besides myself? Here, I am exposed and hidden. Here I am calm.
My fingers run through the eyes of white bark, imagining they are watching me. Unblinking and all-seeing. The sunlight breaks through the tiny leaves of green, lighting them yellow where they cover the rays. Their sound in the wind brings the energy my feet need to run, like little bells on my heels. I dash through the army of bark, dirt kicking up behind me as suddenly I am a nymph. Flowers grow in fields, and I don't pick any. I lay until the grass breaths in time with me, and the smell of soil seeps into my skin. I can barely contain its energy, and I sing like nobody's listening, because these wild plains of grass carry nothing but berries and blue skies. Bare foot, because mother nature lost her connection with us too long ago. How better to reconnect than through my toes, a direct line to her voice. The sun fills me to the brim, and I think I hear a stream somewhere. It ripples over tiny stones, and my hands yearn to feel the moss. There is a wooden bridge across, and I run my hands over the railing, skipping. The blue sky is my cape, the trees my people, and the flowers my crown. Here, I am a child. Here I am free.
The waves crashing on top of one another pull me closer and closer. How can I resist such power within myself? This sunken craving that I feel is undeniable in its relentlessness. The water is terrifying, but the way it moves is like my blood, the way our bodies dance, the way I breath. The ice cold water on my toes is when I become someone different. The salty smell creeps into my pores, and the sand finds its way into every inch of me. Behind my ears and under my fingernails. The water is full of dark, deep, unexplored. The deep depths are like a bittersweet love, the poison I'll willingly take, the cliff I'm about to jump off of. This jump, leap, run, off the edge is imperative. Suddenly, it's less about the pain in my joins from the climb, and more about flying into the unknown. My body screams yes while my mind is unsure. So I turn off the insecurity in my head, and give away to my instincts that break me down into seafoam into sand into water into something besides myself. That deep passion to give into the carnal desires I carry in my toes bubbles up, and it's easier to give in than to hold back, isn't it? The mist freckles my face just before I sink into the quiet depths. The water envelopes me and my very body and soul let out a cry of joy, as I am more than myself but no less than the ocean. Here, I am expansive. Here I am reckless.
All it takes is one drop, on my window sill. I'm bottled up in society and stress, yet that one drop is what spills over my top and empties me. I get up and run, run like my life depends on it because hell, it might. I'm outside in seconds, crying for a taste of what I can't feel alone. My body sobs, in some desperate, twisted plea for release. Slowly, the clouds bless me with the sweet pleasure of rain. The albatross around my neck burns under the rain, and I can finally breathe for the first time since I realized the world has problems and so do I. The showers cover my body, washing me of my sins, my dirtiness. It covers every inch of me, rolling over my nose and down my chin as laughter bubbles out of me like some trapped tiger within the cage of my ribs. It smells like my childhood, the way I used to be, the way I wish I still was. They way I was before I became heartbroken, before I questioned my own worth. Floating through the streets with soaked clothes, the water breaks me down into who I should be. I see my reflection in a puddle, and the wet, soaked woman I see before me is beautiful. The rain comes harder, the sound like drums in my ears. It's cold, but that's how it creeps through my skin and into my bones. I shiver, but how else am I to know I can feel? Here, I am at my zenith. Here I am alive.
The epitome of my need drives me out to a place where there are no trees. No other cars, no sound but my own. It begs me to lie down on the ground, and look up. The clouds over the sky are hypnotic, and the mere fact that there is nothing else in my vision is a miracle. In a day where there is always someone, something, not many know the sheer blissfulness of being totally alone. Free from power lines, planes, and anything less but mother nature and her sons, the clouds. They are mesmerizing as I watch them slowly creep across the sky, and they lull me in a way that none else have the power to. Slowly the clouds give away to the stars, and it's as though I couldn't see before this, not really. The dark sky breathes me in as I breath it in. Far beyond my comprehension is this universe, to the point of religion. I worship at the altar of the constellations, and in return I need nothing. I need not food, not water, not substance to exist in this place. It is how we all start, is it not? In awe of the world, it's beauty and sheer expansion. When was the last time you felt it? Those fingers scratching under your skin, reaching outward to embrace the world? The pure craving we all have, to shed our skin and be simply flesh and bone. To let out the noise of your head and escape this cage, this trap that is silence. Here, I am aware. Here I am nothing less and nothing more than my true self.
There is only one person I know who can break me down into this head space. That's what this is, is it not? A state of mind. A transformation. A separation of my mind and body, if only for a time. How is it that she does this? Does she know the power she has? Does she understand that Her voice is the only thing to fill me with such an energy as the forest? Does she know Her body is the only thing I crave as much as the freedom of an open sky? Does she realize Her fingertips are the only thing to clear my mind like the rain does? More than physically, does she know the way she speaks to me makes me feel worthy? That she makes me feel beautiful, loved, liked, appreciated. She allows me to be vulnerable and that itself is a gift, a gift I shall not take for granted if I can help it. She sees into my mind and somehow wants more. And when I get a glimpse into her thoughts, it's like walking through the woods. Every tree, every ray of sun, every thought, every sound, is new and fascinating. With her, my own thoughts are not a flutter, not mixed up, not lost, simply calmed. Focused. On those lips like rose petals. On those strands of hair in front of her eyes. On those eyes lidded over my body. On her voice seeping off her tongue like honey. For, tell me, can nature return my awe? Can nature return my touch, return my need, return my desire? When a gasp slides past my lips, do the clouds breath it in? If I run my hands along the trees, do they catch their breath? When I yearn for the build and the spill and the crash does nature rise and fall beside me? Not how she does. Her mind, her body, it's all overwhelming in a way I can't find anywhere else. With her I am not my true self. With her I am somehow more. And that is one one thing nature cannot afford me.
It is for this very reason that no matter sin or sickness, hurt or hindrance, she will always be a god to me.
An old building, dim lights. dust and crickets. The silence snapped in half by my footsteps and the sound of whispers. Backlit windows, staircases and little places to be alone The crumbling wood filled with carvings and stories of those past. Stained glass and restored chairs welcome the hollow parts of me, filling them up. Ivy curls around the gutters, and the windows are enclosed by by bricks. They have no glass, but are filled with branches and leaves and tiny bug life. The fire escape leads to the roof, staircases lead nowhere. My urge to run a hand over the carved railings is irresistable. The library whispers louder and louder. Old books, drapery and mismatched chairs hidden behind a do not enter sign. Secrets are everywhere here, but you can’t check them out. The sun rises and the cool breeze finds me in a blanket on a balcony. The sun floats down through holes in the rafters. I am like a bird on a branch, peaceful and about to take flight. I hold hands with a feeling I cannot ignore as I skip down the mural covered hallways. Something that blossoms in dark alleyways bids me to be one with the wonder we so suppress today. And I do, because here, alone, I am safe to be whoever I want. Who else would I be besides myself? Here, I am exposed and hidden. Here I am calm.
My fingers run through the eyes of white bark, imagining they are watching me. Unblinking and all-seeing. The sunlight breaks through the tiny leaves of green, lighting them yellow where they cover the rays. Their sound in the wind brings the energy my feet need to run, like little bells on my heels. I dash through the army of bark, dirt kicking up behind me as suddenly I am a nymph. Flowers grow in fields, and I don't pick any. I lay until the grass breaths in time with me, and the smell of soil seeps into my skin. I can barely contain its energy, and I sing like nobody's listening, because these wild plains of grass carry nothing but berries and blue skies. Bare foot, because mother nature lost her connection with us too long ago. How better to reconnect than through my toes, a direct line to her voice. The sun fills me to the brim, and I think I hear a stream somewhere. It ripples over tiny stones, and my hands yearn to feel the moss. There is a wooden bridge across, and I run my hands over the railing, skipping. The blue sky is my cape, the trees my people, and the flowers my crown. Here, I am a child. Here I am free.
The waves crashing on top of one another pull me closer and closer. How can I resist such power within myself? This sunken craving that I feel is undeniable in its relentlessness. The water is terrifying, but the way it moves is like my blood, the way our bodies dance, the way I breath. The ice cold water on my toes is when I become someone different. The salty smell creeps into my pores, and the sand finds its way into every inch of me. Behind my ears and under my fingernails. The water is full of dark, deep, unexplored. The deep depths are like a bittersweet love, the poison I'll willingly take, the cliff I'm about to jump off of. This jump, leap, run, off the edge is imperative. Suddenly, it's less about the pain in my joins from the climb, and more about flying into the unknown. My body screams yes while my mind is unsure. So I turn off the insecurity in my head, and give away to my instincts that break me down into seafoam into sand into water into something besides myself. That deep passion to give into the carnal desires I carry in my toes bubbles up, and it's easier to give in than to hold back, isn't it? The mist freckles my face just before I sink into the quiet depths. The water envelopes me and my very body and soul let out a cry of joy, as I am more than myself but no less than the ocean. Here, I am expansive. Here I am reckless.
All it takes is one drop, on my window sill. I'm bottled up in society and stress, yet that one drop is what spills over my top and empties me. I get up and run, run like my life depends on it because hell, it might. I'm outside in seconds, crying for a taste of what I can't feel alone. My body sobs, in some desperate, twisted plea for release. Slowly, the clouds bless me with the sweet pleasure of rain. The albatross around my neck burns under the rain, and I can finally breathe for the first time since I realized the world has problems and so do I. The showers cover my body, washing me of my sins, my dirtiness. It covers every inch of me, rolling over my nose and down my chin as laughter bubbles out of me like some trapped tiger within the cage of my ribs. It smells like my childhood, the way I used to be, the way I wish I still was. They way I was before I became heartbroken, before I questioned my own worth. Floating through the streets with soaked clothes, the water breaks me down into who I should be. I see my reflection in a puddle, and the wet, soaked woman I see before me is beautiful. The rain comes harder, the sound like drums in my ears. It's cold, but that's how it creeps through my skin and into my bones. I shiver, but how else am I to know I can feel? Here, I am at my zenith. Here I am alive.
The epitome of my need drives me out to a place where there are no trees. No other cars, no sound but my own. It begs me to lie down on the ground, and look up. The clouds over the sky are hypnotic, and the mere fact that there is nothing else in my vision is a miracle. In a day where there is always someone, something, not many know the sheer blissfulness of being totally alone. Free from power lines, planes, and anything less but mother nature and her sons, the clouds. They are mesmerizing as I watch them slowly creep across the sky, and they lull me in a way that none else have the power to. Slowly the clouds give away to the stars, and it's as though I couldn't see before this, not really. The dark sky breathes me in as I breath it in. Far beyond my comprehension is this universe, to the point of religion. I worship at the altar of the constellations, and in return I need nothing. I need not food, not water, not substance to exist in this place. It is how we all start, is it not? In awe of the world, it's beauty and sheer expansion. When was the last time you felt it? Those fingers scratching under your skin, reaching outward to embrace the world? The pure craving we all have, to shed our skin and be simply flesh and bone. To let out the noise of your head and escape this cage, this trap that is silence. Here, I am aware. Here I am nothing less and nothing more than my true self.
There is only one person I know who can break me down into this head space. That's what this is, is it not? A state of mind. A transformation. A separation of my mind and body, if only for a time. How is it that she does this? Does she know the power she has? Does she understand that Her voice is the only thing to fill me with such an energy as the forest? Does she know Her body is the only thing I crave as much as the freedom of an open sky? Does she realize Her fingertips are the only thing to clear my mind like the rain does? More than physically, does she know the way she speaks to me makes me feel worthy? That she makes me feel beautiful, loved, liked, appreciated. She allows me to be vulnerable and that itself is a gift, a gift I shall not take for granted if I can help it. She sees into my mind and somehow wants more. And when I get a glimpse into her thoughts, it's like walking through the woods. Every tree, every ray of sun, every thought, every sound, is new and fascinating. With her, my own thoughts are not a flutter, not mixed up, not lost, simply calmed. Focused. On those lips like rose petals. On those strands of hair in front of her eyes. On those eyes lidded over my body. On her voice seeping off her tongue like honey. For, tell me, can nature return my awe? Can nature return my touch, return my need, return my desire? When a gasp slides past my lips, do the clouds breath it in? If I run my hands along the trees, do they catch their breath? When I yearn for the build and the spill and the crash does nature rise and fall beside me? Not how she does. Her mind, her body, it's all overwhelming in a way I can't find anywhere else. With her I am not my true self. With her I am somehow more. And that is one one thing nature cannot afford me.
It is for this very reason that no matter sin or sickness, hurt or hindrance, she will always be a god to me.
Comments
Log in or register to post comments.