The trees I smell so peacefully in the distance,

Sway so swiftly in the cool crisp breeze.

The rocks beneath me crack and shift

When I lean back and forth on my feet.

The mountains covered

with soft snow at their top

stand still and silent.

Existing. Being.

Birds fly across the bright morning sky

And create an image

An artist might paint on a canvas.

Deer prance on the delicate grass below,

Grazing on the land they call their home.

I stand atop this peak,

Not knowing what I really seek.

It is love? Purpose?

An answer?

I don’t know for certain.

But here I am.

Running the clouds through my fingers

And feeling the dew enter my nose

With every breath.

I close my eyes

Yet still satisfied

With the image that was there before.

Then nature gently whispers to me through the wind.

You were born to wander, it said.

Then I open my eyes,

To relish the flawless land

 all over again.

I was born to wander,

I whisper to myself,

And smile.