Flat, Until the Mountain, Flat again, but Rising.

He lived in the flats of the land he called home.

His river, and his music, was all he had known.

It wasn't till he found himself atop the mountain

That he realized how much all that meant to him.

Amongst those pines, beside a river he had just met,

He walked a mile with no shoes.

Some would say that is torure.

But to him, the grounds soft dirt felt good,

And he didn't mind the dirt that wiggled in between

His toes and up into his young, young soul,

And marked its place with sweet smells of those pines

And the spray that river offered upon his face

Which he accepted with absolutely no hesitation

Whatsoever, because at that time he knew that

That walk along that river was where he was supposed

To be at that exact moment of that exact time in life...

And ever since that day he envys his happiness and his sense

Of purpose because that was a day he fealt no worries 

For his future or his destiny, even though perhaps they 

Were always lurking there underneath his skin,

Eating away his good until he fealt nothing for a time,

Even when he was with the love of his life,

There was that ever-lurking sting of the chew of 

That sense of unpurpose that he couldn't seem to shake,

Its teeth sunk into the marrow of his bones.

Well.

Now here I am, I am he, and I am again happy.

Who knows where that beast of unpurpose came,

Or where it went, altough I have an idea.

Perhaps it was I that created the beast that chewed

Into my own marrow, my anxiety and my own worry

Feeding it when it was almost thrown from my bones.

And now, when I am sad, I remember that I have many

Things to be happy about, and many things life has for me,

Like the smell of pines, or the spray of a river, even a sea.