“Ain’t it a beautiful part of the world!”
There’s some real beauty within the edges of this continent, places that will stop a person in their tracks, take their breath away, leaving the person standing there till they just have no choice but to sit down; and breathe all of what they’re seeing in.
One person takes that place for me, most beautiful, as for anyone else; don’t know and don’t care. But this land, and all its beauty, it sure fills the gap between this earth and heaven.
The Grand Canyon, ruddy brown, barren and ragged. The depths of humanity these day’s should strive to be as deep, the depths of humanity’s character too; should run as deep as the Grand Canyon. Come winter, snow lines the cliffs, covers the flats, a dress of nature’s own making; what a pretty lady the Grand Canyon becomes. But in humanity, all the fine clothes, the frill, the cuffs and links; just can’t cover up what or who people are.
The Redwoods, three hundred foot tall spires, all green and sheltering. To stand under them, it’s as if all you can do is to look up; as if God is whispering to you: here I am, I’m all yours. If people could only see the cathedral, beyond the knots or other protuberances they steal, pilfer or poach. A day in the Redwoods, even an hour, no matter how long walking or sitting; the time never seems to be enough. But a tablespoon of serenity there can go a long way if nurtured.
Crater Lake, Lake Tahoe, waters deep and blue, coniferous vegitation of the family Pinaceae, Douglas and Ponderosa. Tranquil rocky shores on the Tahoe lakes edge that drop gracefully into the transparent blue water, oh if that transparent quality could stick to humanity, to see the souls of those standing near. Crater Lake, the mystic depths of the cobalt water, laps up gradually climbing the steep walls of the remains of a once lively volcano, leaving a lonesome island in the lakes middle the testament of centuries past. Nature, ever vocal, ever harsh, ever peaceful, ever right; she leaves an island for winter snows to rest where the human footprint dare not trample. But on this day, what will humanity leave behind, what could humanity’s testament ever be; that could steal the wind from the sails of God and this Earth we call Mother.
Sunsets that ripple the coastal horizon, or light up the dusky side of the Midwestern wheat fields. Winter geese, settling in the lagoons of central California, rivers that run wild like the Rogue, or rendered calm like wide Columbia; where trout and salmon run.
The rustic edge of this continent, to the middle of nowhere, if forsaken this could all be a dream of what was, but then what constitutes a dream; but our own vision. But then, what constitutes a nightmare; but our vision. To each his own in that respect, but if you want a nightmare, then do nothing more than watch life evolve into decay; but if it’s a peaceful dream you want, then take care of what you have in life.
Harmony comes from the care and nurturing of the life that you live, something the Save the Earth or World crowd have had hard time wrapping their minds and arms around. Can’t fence off the beauty of this continent for a few, expecting humanity to be happy; nor can humanity disregard the actions of the few while sitting idle and content in blind ignorance achieve harmony.