Micah Park Biffle

   A Wanderers Inn   I have been traveling for thirty days. My horses are weak and I thirst dearly for water. My belly aches as hunger constricts my gut. I am fearful of death in such an unsuitable way. I have always seen myself dying in daring act of life.  Be it in war or the saving of a child. Or maybe, even in the defeat of a dragon as I get one last blow with my blade before it strikes me down and it falls to its death beside me. Feeling its last breath of heat roll over my body as our eyes see only our fading souls.  I have always thought my death would be glorious. Yet here I am, traveling alone with no more rations, nor water. My horses no longer walk with fervor but lackadaisical steps. And so I pray to find shelter before the cold takes us. Before the empty plains of barren trees and darkness finds us.  I wish not to be detritus before my days. Decaying slowly to the maggots as my body lays helpless upon the earth. Becoming a gruesome ...

A Crash that Left him Stranded  log 1) The plane I was on crashed landed upon an island. I am the only survivor and it has been fifteen days. The only lucky thing of this is not all the food burned up in the crash. But I did not go unscathed, much of my body is burned, I am hoping the salt water is enough to sustain the wounds from festering.  But I fear they may be beyond repair. How much longer I have, I cannot say? But the agony of my burns is only increasing as the days go on. Sleep as been horrific, I am in constant nightmares and waking to sweat.  Keeping hydrated is most difficult as I must drink the rain water. I have built a small bowl in the sand just outside my sleeping quarters to catch water. I have sewn leaves together with thread I had found in luggage that dropped from the plan.  I placed them in the sand as to help sustain as much water as possible. I am no seamstress so the water slowly seeps through into the sand. But it has been enou...

 A Miserable Rhyme     This vastness how it frees the soul. The open plains and seas, carried by a beautiful breeze. One should weep at such beauty. But we are often taken by our own pity. Our eyes shut to what we should truly see.   We bear the ability, to be free, which may be a burden that breaks the mind with ease. If not taken for what we should be. Often buried to flee, beneath the shallow graves of our misery. But mountains scrap the skies, oceans hugs the shore but neither holds envy.   Yet we see another, and our eyes skew so angry, so cocky. For another has what we think is our bounty. And instead of reaching, gaining what we wish with hard work and glee. We tilt the bottle and pour ourselves some brandy. Muddling our hearts. Creating our vision to be cloudy.   Shrouding our soul till our body becomes too heavy. We fall to dark empty allies, searching for bitter pieces we can blame. Building an army of boozy pleads in an explo...

Unsustainable Victims  From place to place: path to path, home to home, forest to forest we roamed. No true land to call home, but home was with each other, no matter where we were. Stopping down dark paths in the night, setting camp, playing music beneath the studded stars of the sky.  We were a family of many and a family of the unconventional. Never weighed by the grasp of the civility of society. We were always on the out, on the edge, standing, watching; tempted. At least, I was tempted.  My family never stayed in one spot too long. Never embedded in society, created us not to be welcomed in an abrupt fashion. Either pushed from land by owners, park enforcement, the law, or even animals. My family lived in the wild of the earth.  I must say, in the honesty of it all, we were not the best of people. I was taught to steal, to trick, to lie, so that we may put food on our tables. We were great at hunting, but it is difficult to feed a caravan of hundred...

A Path Between Two Hills The deserted path is always my favorite. It's a path few in my town are willing to walk. It is far from the nearest common road and is bound between two large hills, that most would grow tired after the hike up. Yes, the view from the hills is outstanding, its almost a mythical view. The kind you read from a book and wish you could see such a thing. But even with the amazing panorama of beauty from atop the hills. There was something that drew me to explore what lay between them.  I was about sixteen when I took my first adventure down between the hills. My mother rarely let me even go to the top of the hill as a young boy. The hill on our side was the tallest of the two, if I was ever to go up, with my mothers consent that is, it would have to be bright and early, just as the sun was rising.  That way, the journey back, I would be home in time for lunch. Growing up I had always been one to seek adventure and explore the enchanted wo...

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 ded...