I knew where it would take me and I went there anyway. Embracing the fall and the journey to it. From the precipice I could see the demise of those who thought they were impervious to the elements. There was a small prick of anxiety in my chest and a helplessness in my knees, but my shoulders kept the machine in motion.

It takes water, pressure and minerals to create this sort of flesh. Such an advanced and complex ecosystem all breathing as one formidable being. And here we stand, you and I, almost feeling the bend of earth as the adrenaline wanes. Dripping with endorphins. Staggering with drunken approbation.

It is strange to me that we are disconnected from this garden almost all of our breathing days. I have seen rain fall from the rocks. The whore of a river will change from dormancy to rage in moments, yet I can't seem to move any faster.

The evolution seems to be partially fractured. I have seen it all through eyes I must have borrowed, bones that are on loan who creak and feign their sanction.

Kierkegaard must have known just what this feels like but all I have to read is Thoreau. And that is why I stand here wondering where the earth ends and I begin or if there is any distinction between the two at all.

I am not religious, but I believe in Zion.