The Answers

I like to imagine that somewhere on the globe there is someone that’s holding the keys. The answers to the great questions, the peace of knowing, the weather for the century and the secrets for all seekers of the wild mountain air. Wanderers, wild ones, brujos, sadhus, mendicants, and all those starving for the breath of something beyond the rush hour shine of something that none of us will take with us.
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This one lone soul remains silent. They do not speak because they know the importance of silence. They see it as the seasons go. They feel it when the pressure drops and rises again, puddle drying up. Cicadas suddenly go quiet. To speak would destroy the great mystery that keeps us all wondering, watching and famished. -August 16, 2019