My legs tighten, my impulses fire ... Run! Run! Anywhere! Just Run. Find those crimson cliffs that once settled out the wrinkles of your soul. Find the old woman from Portland with her gentle wisdom. Find that cliff you once climbed on the worst of days. Find the cliff in southern Colorado that you once sat on as a young boy. Get drunk on margaritas, jump into Lake Powell and float away while laughing in the hot summer wind! Find a slot canyon and lose yourself in it!
I now understand what Albert Camus meant when he said, "In the midst of winter, I found there was, within me, an invincible summer."
The darkness is like a hole. As the soul becomes more dense, gravity begins to tug, more and more. Yet, I find my thoughts drifting to a rock in Snow Canyon, meditating, finding some strength in the setting sun.
My hands hold the bottle from whence the wine doth flow.
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