of Wills

Mind empty, reminders of deadlines swirling around the periphery while all I want is to till the soil and wear out my limbs. What use is technology when the earth lies at your feet? What use is contributing to the onslaught of twisted information and empty emotions? When there is grass to be touched by bare feet, when there are mountains to climb and stories to tell? I am reminded of months spent in this desert, where only stories and earth mattered. He says If I keep working this much I can retire in a year and you think yes, but you forgot to stop along the way and look up. The dandelions are carpeting the fields. There's a truth hiding in the folds of that mountain at the edge of the valley.

The things that were to come are too fantastic not to tell.