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Glassy Mountain Top Prose This part of the trip was not my favorite: it was the funniest or the easiest. It is, however, the one time in the trip when I really sat back and self-reflected. The view from the top of the mountain is unimaginable unless you have seen it with your own eyes. Its presence cannot be captured with a camera. When you look out over the edge of the rock ledge you know that there has to be something d but a divinity of nature that can only be captured with the human essence. I sit here surrounded by nature in its truest and most potent form and yet I am thinking of humanity and how the human kind works. Is this nature ours? Can we come to a rare place like this and claim it as our own? There was a time when places like this were everywhere: now we have to pay to see them, they rare and valued. The rock feels cold even in the sunny spots. The bottom of my feet hurt from my tireless explorations of the terrain. Now I sit and rest and marvel at the way I can see the entire valley from this ever so uncomfortable chair that nature made for me- vantage point. I wonder how many people sat in this exact same spot. The sun is too bright in my eyes so I climb up to an even higher rock in the shade and look to my left to see a slightly sunny spot covered with soft dry moss and pine. The pine needles are sharp to my back where they were soft to my feet: I stay anyway. It is quiet but not silent. I hear a plane in the distance, voices below me, and bugs flying in my ears. Suddenly, a wretched thought passes through my mind as I sit here in the soft forest while everyone else sits on the rocks below me: where do the dogs poop when they come up here?


The Butterfly Effect I don’t know where I’m going but I’m on my way. Every simple decision that we make determines where we end. There are so many different lives, so many different paths, How do I know if I am choosing the path that will bring me the most joy? I don’t know where I’m going but I’m on my way. Every decision I make in a day could change my life Every word I write can inspire a new story Every small action results in a reaction I don’t know where I’m going I’m on my way. I don’t know where I see myself in 15 years. How can I decide what I want when I know nothing? I don’t know the path I’m on, but I’ on a path I don’t know where I’m going but I’m on my way And I know that somehow it’s the path for me Even if it’s not the right path Because it’s the only fucking path I see

prose and poetry  

prose and poetry

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