It's coming, this hopeful part; with indelible days of eligible ways. So why, as the sun fades and dips with wandering clouds, charring tips of bent trees, coddling mountain tops and trying to singe the sea, do you insist, with the forceful insistence found in a madding Grizzly bear, on remaining the one who holds fast to his ideals, stuck fast, like the ancient Yew tree who can casts enchanting branches earthward inviting climbers and children, but relents, the roots anchored firmly to it's plot of earth.
It's coming, this hopeful part; as time ticks by it's marked by the drip of a tap, and the erosion of our favorite rock pools beneath the raging, crushing waterfall that has roared itself great and giant by millions of years of effortless stone masonry. We visit and briefly saunter across the bridge spanning this achingly beautifully complex and majestically grand Earth event that has no visible signs of beginning or end, while discussing what we hope to do next and perhaps, decide a menu for dinner.
It's coming, this hopeful part; and stories I've dreamed are the fields of ripe barley rippling across the prairie like the ocean that once covered this place long before the ice sheets gouged and pushed the earth into patterns of prairie, river and glacial remains. These stories rage and burn and urge me to tell and leave no detail uncertain, where detail is defined and true and full of exacting mystery, like the pattern on the wing of a bee that has visited every flower and plant of these barley fields. I'll need one hundred lifetimes to tell these stories, it's so vital to find the right words and meaning.
In this hopeful part I look into your eye and am unsure what I see. I see you and I think I see you, but I cannot tell if you can see me. Telling you stories I think you can hear what I mean, but maybe you don't. There is a bit I struggle to put words to, and I want you to know this part, it's so beautiful. What is the word I'm looking for? Oh yes, I remember; 'It's coming, this hopeful part, with indelible days of eligible ways.'
It's coming, this hopeful part, despite all the warnings. And this dust I find gathering on the conversation we've tried to have is our dust of mites and bacteria and time and skin-flakes that have gathered to bear witness to the frequency with which I return to this conversation. Witness to the thought that maybe i can craft a fitting arrangement of words with the power, the secret code that will unlock the vice-like binding of your roots to your plot of earth. My plot of earth is no greener, but the view from here is magnificent and you really are fulfilling a dis-service to yourself by passing up the opportunity to see it for yourself. There is no substitute for seeing it personally and I am sure imagination alone is not sufficient to create an honest impression of the truth.
Damn! this hopeful part is around here somewhere; getting down on my knees and inspecting the ground closely I can see that we are standing on earth; dust and dirt, rocks, dried up worms, bits of civilisation and eons of antiquity. Every atom precious and incredibly special. From here on my knees in the dirt, I try to understand what is so important to you that has blotted out our surprising circumstance. What has a greater grip on you than the spectacular effortless stone masonry of the mountain stream, and the undemanding finesse of the grass flowing across the prairie.
And what of the forests and around the base of the trees, other plots of earth and of the ancient giants of the sea who know everyone and everything; How do you not get restlessly excited thinking and contemplating these worldly, monumentally eye-opening places and beings. What guides you? What is it?
It's coming, this hopeful part; I remain hopeful, and faithful, and everything to be appreciated stretches there before us. Like on oasis of heatwave on the empty desert highway, this illusion is about perspective; change it, and your perception and understanding is changed. I'll look at this from a different place, maybe try a few different ones, I've always loved traveling.
This is hopeful! And one day, sadly, we must part. And I will keep looking.
