spirit

At some point, it became just me and the sky and the Spirit.

I had never climbed so high. Never felt so worn and weary. My fingers shook...was it fear or bliss? Neither, I think. It was something else. I haven't found a word to describe it.

I do not belong to the earth. I do not belong to the sky.

I belong here. There. 

Wherever Thou art.

It frees you, those words. It frees you when you realize you don't belong to anything you can see. Because inside, you detest it. You detest the way they sacrifice themselves to gods of earth and sky. Like this is home. Like this is it. 

I do not belong.

I am not above, I am not below. But I am not one.

We reach our fingers up to paint the blue, and we stretch our weary lungs wide. They are full of good air. They are full of good hope.

We do not belong to the earth. We do not belong to the sky.

We pass, restless. 

hiking is good for the soul.

♥

xoxo

a listen