Courses in Life

Life courses through my veins, keen with the electricity of a lightning storm’s awe.

Hot, slow, and hidden, bile surges like lava oozing from Kilauea. Its destructive path is certain yet unknown. I rage. I am lied to. Again.

A coarse landslide clogs my neural pathways. Oozing at first, it widens into torrents, heaving debris over drought-cracked flatness. Annihilated, humiliated, defeated, I surrender.

As shards of a calving glacier plunge into the ice slurry of my arteries, fear stabs me inside out. Melting from friction, from bottom up, I detect a course of action. I move. Slowly. To survive.

Hunger quakes my earthy core, coursing through my gut. Growling, gurgling, demanding. Food for body, mind, and spirit. I want.

Roaring through my veins like a wildfire, grief devours landscapes, homescapes, and you—obliterated in the blistering heat. Acrid ashes remain. I cry.

Crisp mountain air permeates my being. Carrying the promise of faint alpine flowers, an unscented whoosh flushes my essence with cool warmth. I am reborn. I forgive.

Joy splashes through my veins like the solstice sun peeking above the Heelstone. Bright, effervescent, and vibrant, it flushes my skin with golden uncertainty. I am in love. Forever.

Awe, an undulating thunder, courses through my veins. Again and again. Life.