The Third Wheel

Aug 9, 2010 9:18pm

Whether or not I wither depends on whither I weather so

You are formidable mountains that I don’t wish to climb and have no want to conquer. You are eroding back to sea level always. You are conglomerates of a weakened and imperfect bond. You call out, you howl, and sigh…..to be higher. The earth undulates, amalgamates and now feeds some other summit and you fall into foothills into the sea. Always. My footprints once around you too wither away. But note dear, do note dahling-the footprints that are disappearing are none the less headed in a direction away. Well away. Never to button hook or meander across your confused and dynamic terrain again. Only once, one time to turn back and SAY- Ah a boy could get lost there, and to KNOW- It is not nearly as beautiful as from the road. There, in a valley, and you are that valley, this valley a mountain so surrendered, so resolved to resign. A place to lose the view, and to lose ourselves. A place better left alone.