Far ahead

I look up

I constantly forget the

vastness of the landscape around me

so used to

the confined walls

of a stockroom

or the city scape

where man made

objects

cast shadows

or

keep you in a forever cycle

of want and distraction.

The air here is fresh

the sun here is striking

the plants here are emblematic

a green that implies

the soil is rich.

Not rich as in wealth

yet it can produce money

a yield providing a healthy sum

to allow for an addition to

your shelter

or a piece of clothing that

will undoubtably hold value for

many years to come.

I look up

And forget my surroundings

almost daily.

Each time I do so

my eyes try to absorb

the foreboding mountainside

without becoming

overwhelmed.

All around me

I am surrounded by stories

to be told

every insect or bird

the hero of their own

universe.

Who is worthy of telling

such a tale?

Who can comprehend the

Intricate relationships between

the people and the nature in which

they dwell?

Who can do such a landscape justice?

These are all questions

that require respectful consideration,

the answers of which shall befall

the person

that can relay the songs of the birds,

the buzzing of the insects,

the whispers of the village,

and the echoes of life

reflected within the colossal rocks

around me.