I was lost, for how long I don’t remember.
There was only day night, hill and river, hill and river.
At the summit lay the ruins of a long forgotten castle, or fort,
pummeled by centuries of elements.
It sat now like a petrified toad on the hillside, with only
the sighing mountains for company.
Taking shelter from the strengthening winds,
I sat, closing my eyes, succumbing to the exhaustion of the climb.
Beneath your hands, a treasure lies…
A voice, but disembodied.
Go on, partake…
I scratched the soil with calloused fingers.
Open, and speak the words…
“I don’t know the language.”
It will know you, traveler. Speak them.
And so I did.
I no longer see the ruins, the sun, the starry sky, the sentient stones, the mountains, the spring grass, nor dunes of frosted snow.
I have become all, my memory seeded into the land, and
all the land seeded into me.
The book still lies just beneath the spongy soil’s surface.
Partake…
Beyond Panic 