....then I look up and realize that this is unfamiliar territory. How long have I been here? I'd say a least a few months, judging by the looks of it...
A desert of mud dried hard as rock. Deep cracks with sharp edges. A featureless landscape; the horizon flat-lines in every direction around me, making the sky seem lower than usual. Thin streaks of cloud are painted overhead - no chance of rain...
I keep walking.
The sun is stuck at noon, and I get the feeling that has been for quite some time. I don't blame it; if I had that view I wouldn't want to move either.
A shape appears on the horizon in front of me, disrupting the perfect line where the sky meets the earth. If wonder if that's where I was headed. I can't remember...
The shape: I have no idea what it is, but it must be huge to be seen from this distance. A mountain perhaps? I'll keep walking toward it. It's an interesting feeling - to know where you're going yet have no idea of what lies at your destination.
The air begins to slowly change from searing heat to a heavier humidity, and ghosts of trees long dead float around me, translucent, trying to help me remember that things change. What killed them, I wonder? What could've taken the life of this former forest.
You're walking with me now. At least....I think you've just arrived. I don't remember seeing you here before. We exchange glances without words and keep on walking, our eyes on the horizon.
We walk.
You're beginning to grow tired, I can tell, but you don't complain. The humidity doesn't seem to bother me as much as it does you. I wonder how long I've been here?....
The shape on the horizon is closer now, and we can see that it must be a tree. A giant tree, like none ever seen before.
I look over and realize how much you're struggling. Your feet are bare, and the sharp edges of the hard earth have bloodied them. I ask if you'd like me to carry you and you refuse. My sandals are wearing out. Soon I'll be barefoot as well...
Written words fall from the sky, like leaves coming to rest gently at our feet with small whispers - music floats through the air in slashes of brilliant color.
I suddenly remember what I'm looking for:
A place where there is no gap between thought and reality; between the conclusions I draw and what really exists. A place that feels less familiar and more like home. A place where people see the Music float through the air in slashes of brilliant color. A place that screams more life than I'm used to. A place where childhood scars become the source of our strength rather than our insecurities. Where abuse fades into a beautiful still-life backdrop. A place where people are interested enough to be Inspired. Where religious leaders learn to forget religion, and remember to live. A place where I actually follow through with my friendships and invest something of value. A place that inspires me to finish what I start. A place where the middles of stories are written (the first and last chapters are always the easiest) ...... a place where I actually finish what I start (I'm not quite there yet, but I have a feeling that this
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