Here lays the land that was here for thousands of years before I came along... and will remain for thousands of years after I am gone.
When I stand on a hilltop and scan three hundred sixty degrees around... I can see the fleeting efforts of man to change this world lost in the vastness of the Arizona Desert. Communication towers on a mountain top miles away that will soon rust away to nothing without the maintenance of a crew.
The other way a highway, whose asphalt will rapidly degrade into a weedy trail, without man constantly refreshing its surface.
Nearby I can see the smoke from another camp. From three directions the sounds of rifle fire. Townie Hunters? sighting in their rifles and blasting away... and then hoping to collect one of their now loudly forewarned prey. Bwahahahahahahaha.
But the land... it remains. The sun rises and sets. The moon lights the nights... and if you listen... what's real will whisper its secrets.
|*Sunset before the Storm*
|*An Arizona Sunrise Masquerading as Sunset*
I'm sitting here, once again, with a broken rig. The failures seem to be accelerating, and many small jabs have gone un-mentioned.
There's an old saying that is often whispered in my head;
If you always do what you always did...
You'll always get what you always got...
Seems like maybe it's time for a stubbornly slow learner... to back off and look around for another trail to follow...
I wonder... is the true journey of a yonderer one of his body moving across the land? ... or his spirit... moving through time?
There are lessons to be learned and secrets to be heard in the sunrise and on the wind...
The question is... Am I listening