That Feeling Followed by Words

I was recently asked if I still blog. Frankly, no. It made me think of why I even started this blog. It wasn't to be famous or anything like that, just an outlet. It made me think about how far I've come from what I loved to do. I have always lived in my dream world, nostalgia. Sadly, I've become a visitor of a land I loved. Lately, I've been getting away from it all, away from everyone. I put my pen to my paper and let it out. I might not blog as much, I but do I write?

I was thinking of you, just as I always do when I write. I wish to inspire you, even if it were but an eighth of how you inspire me. This is for you, FDR...

"Hey there, 

I've taken a me day and ended where else but the Old Zoo. It's fall in LA, which means a gloomy morning with sun for the rest of the day. I'm at the end of the abandoned cages and found a nice patch with earthly bed of dried leaves. Obviously, I sat down.

I sit and look up towards the remaining canopy of browns, yellows, and greens... there's a patchy grey sky trying to conquer what's left of the summer's blue. The soothing quiet of the bit of nature left in the city; here and there I hear the rustling of a squirrel or the distinct call of a woodpecker. It rained overnight, so there's a crispness in the air. This, this is the LA I love. This is my hidden LA.

 

Among the fallen foliage I look for the perfect leaf. Sadly, even in this sea, there isn't but one. None are what I unknowingly want. Unknowingly? Unknowingly in the sense that words are intangible to describe my search. It's a feeling; you know when you know, and then the words flow. Life is like that in so many ways.

The lifeless, dehydrated bed of leaves hides a cycle of hope. Acorn-like remains of seeds nestle into the soil, maybe at least one will grow into another tree to sit under. With nature, it's give and take. Even now, I take my inspiration from the colors, the smells, the sounds, the feelings. What do I give? Admiration, thanksgiving, these words. 

I fill my lungs with the oxygen also given from these trees; I wish I could stay in this moment forever, in this amber-colored sanctuary. Even this magical feeling is fading with the ever so close sound of human life approaching. It's the transition from where a portal to another realm becomes just a wardrobe, and where a ring that makes you disappear becomes a mere ring on the chain around your neck. But we mustn't forget that feeling, that feeling followed by words."

Nature: my inspiration, my muse.