Beckoning

A mans journey on the path to enlightenment.

The beckoning call to the forest tipped my ears this day, rising from my nest of fabrics; the time says 5:55

Morning routines fall into their place, alas another cup of coffee matched only to the orange juice just drank

Then I’d dawn my non best fabric and open the door to the fresh oxygen and sun rays of a place called outside, mother nature

The morning seems almost strangely quiet, as if the robin’s neighbors had gone on vacation leaving only them and chickadees to do the primordial rhythm keeping

Green shades vibrate in waves from my peripherals; blue pulsates with verticals from above with only a few nomadic white figures crossing the sky below the atmosphere of cold, and so so old

I make my way step by step across the grass, feeling the softness of the mother earth to the trail at lawns end; there I meet the path leading into the forest, fenced by the walls of pine, maple, and oak stretching past my eyes confines

Say only after a few moments of bearing my course through the ocean that ticks green, my ears caught an alarm, then my vision a sheen...

Author's Note

Not Finished, Just part on an Intro.