by Dylan
I go to this euphoria while I sit and think. It is not here nor there, but in my head. There are hills of red in every shade like a pastel rendition of the Grand Canyon. There is nobody, nothing around to hear me.
Water rushes down a river rolling over a cliff making a long, beautiful waterfall. I look to the sky and see both day and night peacefully coexisting. The water sounds like a shower head pouring out and hitting the sides of an empty tub. The smell of pine trees fill the air as you see the trees lined up like a fence along the red hills. The dampened ground sticks to your feet as you walk. The ground shakes with the crashing of the waterfall at the bottom of the cliff.
Serenity is this place, no hate, no problems, no concerns for anything volatile. The air is fresh and tastes of vapors and honey. All is well ‘til I leave this place again trading my hills for buildings, my rivers for roads, and my fresh air for that of vog and pollution.
