Hello again, everyone! After six long weeks away from my usual post, I am back again to post blogs on a regular basis (this one is late due to adjusting back). As I described in my previous update, each blogger who volunteered their time and effort in order to keep this blog rolling along would each provide a different taste with a topic they were each compassionate about. As I have now read all of them, I can say that they all blew my expectations away. Every week was truly something of a different caliber, ranging from review, analysis, and opinion. To all those who did my job for me in my place, I would like to take this short time to say thank you. Tremendously, in fact! I hope you enjoyed these posts as much as I did, and it isn’t impossible that some of them may return in the future.
Before we get to the post in itself, I will say thank you to another group of individuals. Upon my last post, my acquaintance with them was null, yet now I can say as if they are family to me in a sense. As my last serving here was of a narrative proportion towards the dawn of the summer, I find it only appropriate that we also end off the summer in a similar fashion. This upcoming story is dedicated to you Hercules, and I hope you all find some emotional traction while my words pave away this oncoming narrative.
Trees. Trees, densely covering a straight trail with no apparent end. Slender branches grasp upon the wispy air above; deep roots keep the earth in place. Life rests upon its shoulders in all forms, yet these trees do not quite literally share this purpose. Redwood, oak, birch, maple? In dreams reality is irrelevant, yet this factor is subconscious in turn.
You look down. You are used to a trail of gravel, dirt, or dust. Yet here, the composition of the path is of a fine, pristine marble that beams its reflections into your very eyes. The sky is blanketed by a thick layer of fog, where the tips of trees are consumed by an eternal breeze of vapour. All is flat, consistent, and forward. The marble path is completely pristine, leading to the never-ending horizon that looms far. Your first and only instinct is to proceed with both eyes.
Against your own will, your feet carry you in a perfected march, with each beat being timed consistently apart. Yet this does not distract you from what lies off the path. The trunks of the trees roar up into the mist of fog, and the tops are extended beyond any possible reach or comprehension. Sound is still, all but a faint noise from above. A shrill cry from an infant is heard, followed by a soothing voice that buries all worries and uncertainties of this new path. Your heart glows with reassurance, yet the impervious march carries you away from you can cherish this tender moment.
Further along, the trees grow shorter, yet their meaning is clearer as a result. Rather than just sound, other sensations arise as well. The taste of sweet delicacies envelops your mouth, and the scent of nature form an aurora of attraction as well. You can see a faint outline of figures dancing in the trees, and your emotions peak with an overcast of joy and exuberance as if their sensations were intertwined with yours.
Below, the marble path remains sturdy as your march continues its overbearing cadence. Above, the fog shoots into the same direction at the same height, with a blinding white that shows a glimpse of what sunlight may lie above. Although you are entombed to this impatient journey, the sense of adventure and curiosity keeps your mind ahead. You are the sole witness of a whimsical cycle of triumph, heartache, and failure, yet this abridged path shows that all things will rise once more at one point or another.
The trees have now conformed to a size upon which their happenings are observables to your eyes, and these figures are now recognizable. You gaze forward, only to see yourself and another. You are unsure of what this other is, but they feel significant, and fill your heart and mind with a sense of relief and compassion. Your body races, yet are they a lover, or a manifestation of all those you care for? You can only ponder as you witness your figure embrace this other with a full grasp, as they both stare off into a nonexistent sunset. You may not see it through the outline of forest, marble, and fog, yet you can feel its presence and warmth gleaming onto your body.
Moments such as these are only constrained by time, however, as you continue to march forward. The picturesque landscape of trees darted onto a flat meadow remains unchanged, however, the feelings in your heart twists. You feel anguish, despair, and fear. All in a sudden moment, a final tree in your gaze. Your figure is marching away on its own accord, and the alluring figure of before remains behind to watch.
Have you abandoned what you love? Unlike the rest of the journey, your eyes are inseparable from the other figure. However, the ground before you crumbles into a blank void beneath all that exists, and your memory becomes an untranslatable jumble of bizarre emotions. All that encompasses your wake is an ocean, reflecting the now-grey mist of fog. You can almost make out a few trees on the distant horizon, yet the ocean is all you can really see. It becomes clear that this path is meant to be walked and remembered in both heart and mind, yet your mind is clouded with this sense of uncertainty instead of the journey.
As your march carries you beyond such emotions, you see that all that remains is the marble path. You halt, only to look up at a blank space, and down at another blank space. Behind lies blank space, ahead lies blank space. The marble path is over, yet you see its end creep ahead ever so slightly. The dream may be over, yet what lies ahead is unknown.
At the conclusion of this post, I hope you enjoyed this metaphorical walk through the woods. The overlying theme I was attempting to convey was life, memory, and experience, and not too subtly either. I am very much glad to be back after six weeks, and I look forward to be posting on a regular basis once again!
stadarooni 
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