Your neck tilts in fine line of humility. You gaze at the forest full of silent, green leaves. Your eyes hold dignity, mouth clasped in integrity. The crows fly across the sky. But you don’t believe in omens. You see beauty in the color of black, a brushstroke against the sky. So you walk. The soil is drenched in possibilities. You listen to the ground welcome your steps into the wild. You take a deep breath of fresh air, the morning mist. You smell honorable history, you smell sprouting future.


Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in: Logo

You are commenting using your account. Log Out /  Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out /  Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )


Connecting to %s