A Point of No Return

The spirituality of climbing up a mountain often overpowers the physical discomfort.

I touch earth, yet am detached from the plains I have grown up on.

I inch closer to the sky, and am compelled to shed rooted parts of myself that limited my view.

I see the world in a totally different light. I discover parts of myself in myriad ways, pulsating and gyrating to mould themselves to unfamiliar terrains.

Each thought is a slope, each memory something I want to leave behind.

“The hills so dry, so dense the underbrush, that where I pushed my way the giant hush was changed to soft explosion.”

As my heart lifts into the cosmic vastness, realisation hits about the mindsets I need to descend, to get back to my origins.

I decide to cut the roots – to either fly or perish, but not go back.

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Prosery: A View of the Hills

A related piece I wrote 10 years ago – The Point of No Return