Golden

The sun was golden, its warmth spreading through the valley like a rolling wave. I wanted to touch the dripping honey of the sky, thick in the air like melting caramel, washing the world with its amber light.

I walked, unsteady on shaky legs, boots haphazardly tied, tripping over pinecones and rocks that were in my path. A satisfying "crunch" followed in my wake, echoing through the silence. Have you ever stomped through a pile of pine needles? Shattering and splintering into tiny pieces, a bouncy blanket turning to pieces of broken earth.

I sat upon a stump, its smooth top welcoming me for a rest. I tucked my knees up to my chest, lowering them like a butterfly's wings, palms open and resting on my knees, and there I sat. Breathing. Feeling. Existing.

I was one with who I should be, could be, would be. I was nothing but flesh and bones holding in a tired soul, but I was soon renewed, refreshed, recharged.

I was the mountain, and the sun was setting upon me, but it was not an end, only a beginning.