This Climbing World

The soulful hour comes after 6pm when dipping sun breaks through the pillars of trees as I roam alone, and find a softened , hilly granite to sit on, and here, my being rests; the light pouring down into the woods and breaking the the shades and colors of things. And hearing my own silence with a hint of windsong, the higher self climbs through the trellis of the breeze, arriving in a funnel of light like a ray to see, touch a god-like image, hazed as I wander through a city outside myself. 760 Contest, Strand