Home Spring
In a lost, surreal, abstract place, drops began to fall with no sign of surrending. Trying to carry on with nothing where it should be. . .
Once, he thought, I would have seen the stars. But now it’s only the dust; Maybe I’ll go where I can see the stars, toward the uninhabited desolation. To the place where no living thing would go. . .
He remembered the top, the sudden leveling of the hill, when the climb ceased and the other part of it began, what he had already experienced and what he would eventually experience blended so that nothing remained but the moment . . .
Hope. What had remained in him, while everything else was lost, was hope. He had been careful where he wandered his mind, and after all that what he felt it; long, deserved, peace. . .
