She is watching us

I see her when I stare upward near exhaustion,
see her hovering there
blue eyes
her senses emanating the seeds of safety
I turn around to look back from where I came,
see her there, behind me
her rivers, cocoons under a bridge
their violent rumba stinging our lungs
adrenaline scribbled across the entire journey

I open my book to write
and right there
with only half of her sight
the earth the water the fruits the fire the vibration
the Way
whispering all along
do you trust me?

The dancing around the humidity
as the gnats, tenacious, swim in the corners,
burrowing through to the third eye

The fresh air
breezes vibrating off her page

I stare into her eyes
knowing she is watching
until I realize
she is
the only purpose to life;
the smell taste sound touching vision

She is watching us
this holy trinity
the ghost of nature
the possibility of man
the deconstructed womb
meticulously organized

the sheer simple magic of a whole lifecycle
this microcosm of existence
nourishing pilgrims
along her seven day walk

 

 

af

 

 

(written with pen on paper about the Foothills Trail)