You have a landscape etched into your soul. One day you will take a step, unassuming, into a new place. The magnificence of it will stand before you and your heart will whir like a hummingbird’s wings in recognizance of outside surroundings that at last match what is written on the inside of your being. It can happen anywhere. You might be in a sunny wood on a steep mountain slope or a stark desert with nothing but the open air when suddenly a path will rise up to meet you like an old friend. Perhaps the murmur of ancient moss-draped trees will make your soul stand at attention and listen as if they are speaking directly to you, as if answering a question you have been asking for as long as you can remember. Maybe a caressing wind will surge from the earth, lifting a scent that will twine around you and in it you will discover an imprint of yourself. Perhaps as you gaze at the tall trees stretching towards the sky, you will feel them gaze back at you. It will be under that gaze you are born anew. The sunlight streaming through the towering trunks will unmake and re-forge you with a searing fire that sweeps through your soul. The air will carry a song that you have had stowed in your heart your whole life. The scent on the wind will be a chorus in your blood, each note an integral piece of the fabric of your being; the essence of sun-baked rocks, fresh rain on loamy soil, wind through a stand of firs, entwined with the faint impression of a churning, salty sea. You will return to the world orienting yourself anew. When taking the measure of yourself in the mirror you will only see the crashing of a briny emerald sea on a distant rocky shore or the wind through the trees in a pine forest that whispers only for you. In this place you will carve a piece of yourself out and lovingly leave it behind but the hollow will be filled with gold-dappled sunlight streaming through mighty tree trunks, sparkling dust rising from the earth, and delicate, verdant moss reaching for you like spindly fingers. The glowing ember you grasp as you leave will burn with unyielding parity of your feral spirit. We all carry a landscape within us, the thread that ties us to the earth, bound so close that your sharp exhale is the gust of wind on the slope that moves the trees in a dance and the flash of recognition in your eyes is the rush of salt and sea across a sandy shore.

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