on what shall abide

Amidst the daily Sturm und Drang of humanity’s fevered doings, promises of tomorrow can seem bleak, twisted, nefarious even. When afoot on the planet, far from the madding crowd? Not so.


These rocky lands and tabled skies, these canyons and defiles and plucky creeks trickling to no sea, these wizened trees stretching arms up, roots down into whatever slip of soil and sky might suffice? These shall abide long after we are all gone, our shards—all we were and ever hoped to be—scattered like grains of sand on their beaches of forever. Eternally a part of the whole.


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