Within me, there lives another. A lonesome friend. My days pass with a cloying pace, dreamlike, hazy, until suddenly, I hear his call. His voice, like a long forgotten memory, whispers, “Ready? It has been too long. I hunger. I hunger to be among the trees, I dream of walking among the fallen leaves, which were once as restless as I.”
Walking among the fallen leaves, Nagzira forest
This call from within, I can never leave unanswered. It is the call of the path, of the never-ending journey, heedless of time and space. Without destination, without answers, with only a feeling of being.
The never-ending path bends ahead, Nagzira forest
It was February when my friend of solitude beckoned. I was lost, in an evening reverie when suddenly I felt his thoughts tugging and pulling impatiently at my heart. I looked around with silent desperation. Everything spun, madly, with an air of the virtual. My mind was fraught with longing. Longing for an escape; no, a release from the chains of the endless brick and mortar of my world. Too long have I been asleep.
I belong to nature. To the trees, to every speck of life among them. The primal cord that nourishes every soul cannot ever be severed. I knew. As did my friend.
As if a dream, Nagzira forest