Deep inside I run, deep to where it’s quiet. Dark green growth. Now it’s so hot we drip with the trees.
I say alone, but we’re together. All who want to be here are. This sacred group, cloaked in their own desires. Adventure. Cultivation. Suffering. Sacrifice. Happiness. Each stands, with roots of the other twisting up the trunks of legs and arms and branches. Atop mountains, each one nameless and defiant. The names are a communication with others. I’ll forget your name. I may forget your face. The memory won’t be revisited. Only in this place do we meet.
Utilitarian form. No money. Gear. Survival within the chains of humanity. Concrete blocks in the forest. Channeling forces. I am nature. I am not nature. I am also Death and Destruction. I am also responsible. I am also life. God? What does that mean?
Leaves forever. Dripping green cloaks. Why did this happen here? Why now? Of all places. I can’t remember. Just breathing, dreaming, demon. Just this life. Just this nameless forest. A general form with the infinity of design. Bubbles fluid full. Make one long sever and we would pour forth, never to be refilled. Throbbing, pulsating, every second is necessary.
For what? Just a path. The desire to walk. It is this path. I will walk.
At some point the scenery changes. I’ve been walking the whole time, but I’ve come here. White green. Higher. Further away. In winter here most everything dies, hides, or sleeps. But today I’m here, sweating and heaving. I remember now. I want it all again. My reasons return. I’m not here anymore, but half in town, with the rest of the apes. Barking along geometrical lines for finely designed beverages and larger paychecks with an applause because they exist. We exist together.
So far away. I climbed this tree for you. Otherwise I’d have no reason. I’d have stayed on the ground. Through the center of me, hanging between my legs, down into the tree, through to the center of the earth, there is a point where nothing moves. I wonder how small it is. Deep within that dark stillness, reverse lightning strikes up to heaven. My eyes. This wolf, hair raised and hackles back, one could not lose … not against winter, the mountains, civilization, or time itself.