An optimist will tell you the glass is half-full; the pessimist, half-empty; and the engineer will tell you the glass is twice the size it needs to be. – Oscar Wilde
Wednesday, July 19, 2006
Till we meet again my mysterious friend.
It was a sweltering day on the trail and the setting sun laid disorienting shadows upon the ground. A bead of sweat dropped upon my eye as I caught sight of motion up ahead. I approached the rock formation with hesitation. My curiosity was distracted slightly by a familiar feeling. "Fly away from this place" came the whisper from within. Logic forbade me from acting on my otherwise trusted instincts. An overactive imagination is a mark of childlike wonderment and should be held onto tightly. That thought rang with such force, I might as well have spoken it out loud. I brushed aside the tall grass to gaze about the battered face carved into the lifeless stone. What nature of body must the ground be hiding for you oh being of the wood? An age of his kind must have seen several of ours. It's expression bordered that of frustration and toil. Was the faint sign of life just moments ago a warning or a mistake? The trees rustled cautiously but I felt no wind. Suddenly the ground beneath my feet became slick and I lost footing. The hiking path cradled my forced retreat. The sky darkened and an eery mood set across the forrest. The clouds moved in as if on purpose. I knew I was being told to leave but by whom or what. Distant birds broke the silence with conspiring squawks. I turned but stood motionless. I had so many questions for you but knew the answers would not be easy to hear. I am but a steward of the land, forgive my intrusion. Till we meet again my mysterious friend.
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being weird
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