The Unknown
and still his body calls
his bones do yearn
for sacred rest
in native soil
and still his body calls
his bones do yearn
for sacred rest
in native soil
Warm wet air condenses on the
black cold panes of windows and
outside it is dark and frigid but
I still fill my glass with ice
I’d assumed that the girl behind the counter of the rental car kiosk was being over theatrical when she’d sighed and mourned that my destination was ‘literally in the middle of nowhere’ As I drove down yet another empty country road, her embellishment seemed to become more and more factual.
It wasn’t that the drive was arduous, in fact I was compelled every so often to simply pause to take in the fresh air and natural beauty of this place. At one point I found myself standing in an icy cold stream beneath a canopy of green with sheer rock faces rising above my head, less than a minutes walk from the highway. The clear brook was welcome respite for my feet and I even went as far as to wash my face from the pool, the heat was so uncomfortable. I’d have never done that at home. The fear of disease and general proximity to nature seemed to have ebbed away here though.
If this was simply the road to Paradise then I couldn’t even to begin to imagine what the place itself was like.