Passing By

Along a winding dirt path tracked with jag shod tread-marks. Standing pools a filthy brown tinge urine hue, settled in the deepest troughs; create a microcosmic counterpoint with soaring canyon walls that tear the azure sheen sheet of a cloudless sky above.

The sandstone slivers mark aeons passed, each a lonesome page in our mother's history, bearing witness to more than Gods could comprehend. With no pretence of written record the rust orange coloured lines sit still with unbound knowledge, unknown to most any creature.

I stroll on through this wondrous scene, serene display of theatrical silence no Globe could encompass, no throne could make its sovereign property. Its beauty is for nothing but its own existence, a diamond in rough that would dazzle Big Apple night skyline with understated ease.

And though this masterpiece resides in plain view of my own eyes, though I marvel with quasi pride at natures bosom, embraced without condition, I am somehow just passing by.

Passing by the perfect bound handcraft leather covered novel which I judge, shallow on aesthetic touch, yet missing boundless words behind the mask, that would open up a whole new multiverse in a single grain of sand, were I but to pinch the veneer and lift a corner up.

Were I to stop, forgetting chapters passed and the first act, black though it must have been, were I to stop now and lift that corner, what would I see?

I ponder this as the canyon splits and presents a choice of gullies veering every which way. Some steep, some narrow, all dark at first but with a promising sound, the rush of river water echo. Reverberation amplified brings hope to parch my barren throat, arid with the dust and the dry canyon air.

I pause for a second, before I make my gut decision, and march onwards towards the sound. The primal urge to satiate basic needs takes over and I stride towards the middle gully, unaware of the question I asked myself but a second ago. And once again, I'm passing by.

Author's Note

Loosely inspired by a dream I had last night

Reviews

[Adam Whitworth]

Very engaging piece here, way way above the usual level of juvenile outbursts on writerscafe. Impressive work, I appreciate the sensitive tone and accomplished delivery of an absorbing poem.

[Subversive Reality]

Thanks very much for the encouraging review Adam, I'm glad you enjoyed it!

[Azure Montessa (Blue)]

The word choice is interesting but sorry, my mind can't comprehend the depth of your words. Haha. I wish I were as skilled as you or I wish we were on the same level of intelligence. :) Nevertheless, it's very good. :)

[Enid Blake]

Decisions decisions hey? There is so much that we just pass by, so many choices to make. Many miracles just ignored. There is so much rich description that weaves your words together, you obviously think hard about the language you use when composing.

[R. L. Hill]

Beautifully written. Inspired by a dream?

[Subversive Reality]

Thanks for the comment! Yeah loosely inspired by a dream. It wasn't a particularly crazy dream, I just remember walking through a canyon, the beauty of it made me think about how I tend to look but not see

[R. L. Hill]

Really lovely. I find that dreams are an amazing source for inspiration too. I typically have some of my best ideas for a story or poem in those first few minutes as my mind is drifting to the world of dreams.