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Oct. 20, 2006 Like most every morning, he walked down into the forest, along the large path. The path was like a river that led to other rivers, and always part of it went on, as far as other districts, and even beyond them, according to a map he had once looked at. To an untrained eye, the pathways would appear much the same day in and day out, but this was not so. There were the seasons of course, which changed the environment tremendously, but there were little seasons, within the seasons, where things changed. In fact, no two days were the same, and no two moments were the same. The path was alive, and infused with energies of all kinds. This particular morning, as he walked along, he veered upwards to the left. Many leaves had fallen off of the trees, and they blanketed the ground. The wind played up there, at the treetops, and as it intermingled with the many small branches, sounded like rain, akin to the start of a shower. He walked uphill, and when he got to the top, sat down on a large tree that had fallen. He looked as far as he could, through a few bushes, and a small wire farmer’s fence. Way beyond the farm, there was a road where cars drove past. If he had wanted, he could have easily discerned which road it was that he was watching. It would only take about ten, or at the most, thirty seconds, to figure out. But each time he was temped to know, he forced himself to think about something else, or to become semi-hypnotized by the cars. There was already too much that was known, and for some reason, though he had been walking there for a long time, it had remained fresh to him, like when one is discovering a new place on a holiday, in a foreign country. He looked from the far off road, to a barn to the left, closer, and then closer, back to the fence, a lonely and rusted fence, and then back to his shoes. He thought that there was some profound realization that could occur at such a place, and tried to clear his mind for it. No such realization ever came. He shut his eyes, and listened hard. He felt that the hum of the cars were inside of himself, that there was no difference between inner and outer. He looked up, and saw something move slowly and gracefully across the field a bit, just about a hundred feet away. It was a black horse, as black as a crow in fact. He wondered how such a large animal could move so gracefully, like a wave of some sort. In all the mornings he had gone there, there had never been a horse. Then he noticed that there were two. They bent their heads down to the ground and began to graze. He continued to watch them for a few more moments, but had to get going, so he got up and began the walk down the hill back to a more traveled artery of the pathway. Among the trees and fallen leaves he went. His feet felt cushioned, what with socks, and then shoes, and then the blanket of leaves on the ground. The leaves came in yellows, reds, and browns. The leaves had been made well, and had died well. Each one had much symmetry to it, and had become, in a strange way, even more beautiful after it's demise. Sometimes one would have yellow, red, brown, and even green in it all at once. ------------ Email Brian Michael Barbeito: Brian1750@Hotmail.com Comment on this article here! ------------ All articles are EXCLUSIVE to Useless-Knowledge.com and are not allowed to be posted on other websites. ARTICLE THIEVES WILL BE PROSECUTED! |
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