The Travel Of Self
The Travel Of Self
I look upon this gaping reservoir of nature. It's bold, unexplored by the metal fingers of man. A silent toast to the beauty that exists in our very backyard. The clouds, hovering at the tips of mountains like a kiss upon the cheek.
As the clouds settle upon the horizon like a canvass of white. Hues of gracious complexions form with tranquility. As I carry my eyes across this mingling of natural architectural scene. I find my heart in a composition of words, trying to truly feel this moment, to interpret.
But I can find nothing to equate this. There is no opening of language that can flood such a sight; bringing it to the reaches of readers, nor tongue. It is something that must be explained in the presence of experience. Of venturing to quiet hills of earth and finding the silent view so few see.
I am taken deeply by this picturesque moment; for it has been twelve months since I have seen such allure, such refinement. Now upon my return, I have dedicated my freedom to the examination of myself through the spacious exploration of the world.
But not only binding myself to nature, but the nature of man, to the listening and learning of others. Being a student of the now, but not without deposits for the future. For death is no further than my lips are to my teeth.
For we know not when time has chosen us to meet; and as my breath mists to the open air, I watch as it disperse. It vanishes as quickly as it came; gone, and soon I will do the same. Fitting beside the molecules that once held me together. Decaying my temple to the surroundings of man, releasing my soul to the divine.
To things that which cannot be explained by words nor detailed by the hands of man. For some beauties, some places, are best left to the vision of the eye and the touching of the soul. I now deliver myself to the echoes that will be my words, my story, my heart.
I pray my travels will lead me to good men, women, and children. That I will learn of others and better understand the suffering of man. In hopes to compel my thoughts to find love in wounds. Allowing a rooting to better understanding of self. I pray I find myself, not only in the call of the distant mountains, quiet streams and subtle breezes; but in the clandestine towns of only a few hundred.
Thank you for reading this. This piece was inspired by a fellow veteran who has dedicated his time to traveling.
When was the last time you listened to the silence of nature or took the time to better understand yourself and others?
For more heart warming stories, A Man's Traveled Heart
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