Sometimes I feel like I lose myself in places I've never been.
In things I've never seen.
I yearn for them so much that my heart aches.
Like my soul must have a mate within the mountains.
I want to find myself dreamy and lonely.
Cozy in high peaks where the wind braids my hair, where everything is silent, where I am lost seeing summit kissing summit in a majestic ombre of bluing mountains... the sun laying it's last ray across my face as it switches shifts with the moon and paints the world in grapefruit and peach.
Wrapped in a sweater, drawn into my sketchbook, Indy playing hunter along the edge.
Maybe I would take the Boler up there. Spend the night with the darkest of sky, glittered in the most fantastic field of stars, itching only to wake up again- to have coffee with the sunrise, an hour of hearing nothing but the unfurling of the fox, the fawn, the birds. The awakening of the forest as it comes out of it's nightly cocoon- reading a book that takes me away from even realizing my own existence.
The awakening feeling of that silence is vibrantly alive within me.
I could sit and watch the world forever atop that mountain.
My heart is already there.