The Great Cycle

Walking in the woods after rain. Damp grass caressing my naked feet, the scents of nature heady and pervasive.

Losing myself in the dark mystery, moving ever closer towards that which can not be expressed.

Time appears to stand motionless. That old gnarled log on which I have so often rested stretches it’s bulk across the leaf strewn path. Once part of something living it now acts as a convenient bench while, imperceptibly it decays returning to what it once was, rich earth which will give rise to new life.

Long before me these trees have stood. I will go and they will remain. I am part of something beyond myself, a living organism in nature’s mysterious plan. Yet I deny this on occasions. Hiding behind my computer’s screen or my head full of noise ear glued to my mobile. All seems paltry as I walk here. The technology with which man surrounds himself is a silly toy. Nature laughs at us. She waits, Man will go but she will remain.