A starry night. A cold breeze blowing across the arid landscape. Silence, and the voices of the night! Stark, barren mountains stand up like great sages beneath the shimmering skyline.
The wind brings the smell of something, indefinable, intangible, yet real. The grass whispers along its wake. It is all so quiet and majestic and beautiful. Yet, nobody seems to look at these treasures that are open and free for every one. Some people, like you and me, stare at the landscape and try to find meaning in it. As if the puzzle of life can be solved just by staring. As if there is no end to this night and to our quest.
What is it that drives some people to find more in this scene and others to completely ignore it? Why are some touched more by the beauty in ordinary things?
What is it about nature that inspires awe? What do we find so attractive and wondrous, frightening and scary, absolutely indefinable, yet that which inspires all art?
When I see a skyline like that, I want to run away, be free, keep staring forever at the beautiful sight. Away from all the mundane work and everyday thoughts and feelings, I want to go off on a completely different tangent.
Where life is full of mystery, and hidden treasures, and beautiful forests, and unexpected friends and beautiful stories and sweet music. All my dreams, all my truth, … to go to one place, which I am trying to find …. I know not what to do to get there. I don’t know anybody who lives there. But I know that it is a beautiful place.
Where I want to be. And I am on the path to find where it lies. Searches, a journey, difficult obstacles, stormy weather, all the things that I come across, occupy my entire attention. I forget what I am looking for. I don’t know what to do. I want to hold on to the path and forget everything else.
Everything else. The lord knows it is true. Like an empty page in which there is everything to fill, I am, ready to be inked. Or am I to write my life myself? Then it will be badly written, with ink blotches, and tears, and missing pages. But then, it has to be written. There is no other way.
