The Wanderer

The forest was cold, dull and dreary. Despite that I knew it was spring, no life seemed evident. How long I had been trapped alone with the gray and dying trees I could not recall, but it had been some long time. My mind strayed from the past and I stared around me.

Many types of trees surrounded me, yet everywhere I looked the leaves seemed old, abused. There was no luster, no sheen on them. Worm eaten holes were evident all over, no tree seeming to be exempt from the desecration that had befallen what once must have been beautiful woodland.

No sun shone through the overhead mesh of branches. What sky I could see was overcast with clouds that threatened rain, but produced nothing. It was as though even the sky had lost its will to carry out its normal duties.

The air stirred not a bit, no breeze blew and as I walked it seemed to be lifeless, not resisting my passage, but not accepting it either. My nose caught not the slightest hint of scents, not even the pines gave off their sweet smells of sap. Quiet reigned; no birds sang, no leaves stirred, not a single animal pranced and danced.

It appeared I was completely alone, no semblance of life anywhere. At first I tried humming to fill the noiseless void, but it seemed out of tune, clashed with the nature of this place. Instead I sang, silly songs, songs of my youth...the notes fell flat and mirthless to the carpet of dull brown pine needles.

There was no real fear, no emotion at all in fact. You would expect paranoia to abound, to be constantly looking over your shoulder, expecting at any minute that something horrendous would appear to ravage you. Not so, I tell you now. I spent most of the time feeling the lifelessness seep into me. Eventually I knew I would give up, lay down and never move again, becoming just another carcass in this forest of decay.

For long and long I wandered. Time passed without count and I quickly lost track of the days, weeks, months. Lost alone and lonely, I plod through the drear landscape, my only fear that I would be trapped alone forever.

One day as I wandered I caught a glimpse of something and had to stop to rub my eyes. My mind had been dulled by the lack of vibrance and I couldn't be sure if what I had seen was real. But whatever it had been passed out of my vision quickly. There had been a flash of light and color, glorious life, but no longer could I see it.

Men trapped in the desert will often hallucinate an oasis, a beautiful, cool pool with palm trees and lush grass, to soothe the aching in their souls, I knew. Perhaps this was what it had been, merely an oasis of the mind in this, my own private hell.

I took a second to seek the general direction that this figment of my imagination had come from and began slowly wandering towards it. Could it be possible? Could there really be some sort of life, beauty amidst all this death and decay?

I could not, would not, get my hopes up. Coherent thought had long become nigh on impossible, my mind becoming as dull, numb and lifeless as the scenery surrounding, and to think that I could find a balm from this cursed state was to do for myself. Yet—just perhaps—I felt it was necessary to at least try. If nothing else, it broke the monotonous wandering, the monochromatic landscape.

For a goodly time I continued catching glimpses of color, life, beauty. It seemed that I was drawing closer, but closer to what I wasn't sure. Then, without warning, I had arrived.

I stared, suddenly in awe. My mind went into a great state of shock as my soul soared through the skies of wonder and amazement. Eyes widening until they nearly popped out of their sockets I tried to drink in the scene in front of me, to soak up the majesty of what I had found.

Standing in the midst of the drear forest I gazed upon a glade of infinite beauty. Everywhere my eyes touched were beautiful flower gardens, rose bushes, peonies and tulips grew side by side in an amazing arrangement that captivated my eye. The ground was covered in a lush carpet of the most stunningly soft green grass. The trees surrounding the oasis swayed in a gentle clean breeze, their leaves carrying a brilliant sheen of life. I could hear birds singing, and smell the sweet aroma of life.

Ever so cautiously I set foot inside this most wondrous of places. I feared to tread with conviction, in the event that this was a mirage, that in fact it would disappear in a puff of smoke. My spirit soared, and I smiled at the sudden livening of all my nerve endings. Senses bombarded with life, color and beauty I slowly rotated on the ball of my foot, drinking in the sight.

Once more I was forced to stop, shaken. Where I knew the entrance to the glade should be, the exit from this Eden into the dull, drear land of nod beyond, there was only the continuation of this magnificent place. It continued as far as my eye could behold. In confusion I took yet another step, more firmly this time. Still the garden remained. Another step and another took me deeper into this newfound land of glory, and still there was no sign of an exit.

Suddenly the thought struck me that I had not given myself utterly to this place, a part of me was indeed hanging on to the gloom of my prior habitat. As I slowly crouched to catch the scent of a particularly vibrant red rose, I heard a little still voice.

It whispered on the gentle winds, sighed from the swaying leaves, echoed from dew resting lightly on the petals of a sweet rose. This soft whisper infused me with a feeling of peace and joy, opened my eyes to the glories of life and carried my very being to heights never before dreamed of.

"Open your heart," the breeze called, "for you have come home."

Tears stood on my cheeks as I willingly accepted the love, joy and beauty that had been missing from my life. The beauty of the garden still abounds, the colors growing brighter every day I remain. As I lie here in the sweet heather I often think back to the forest and contrast it in my own mind.

Never again shall I wander that awful place, that heart and soul numbing woods. For I have truly come home.