Roaming

This is my first blog post without an accompanying image.

Roaming
I heard the waterfall before I saw it. I allowed its thundering tenor to leech me in along the nebulous path, mud sucking at my bare feet. Then between dark birch branches a bright movement shimmered opaquely. It focused first as a covert cloud, then as serial stalactites sloping and sliding downwards. I finally viewed its full might at a place below the lip where my eyes were dusted by a fine mist as they deciphered the greys from blacks and greens and creamy whites. Movement eroded what was solid, stealing matter as it had stolen the silence from the scene. The illimitable gorge boiled in ferment below and when I leaned forward to feel its breath, sensations of vertigo formicated in my veins like a cocaine rush. A slender upward trail suggested heightened panorama. As I crept upwards the trembling ground massaged the soles of my feet, as inches away the deliquescence blasted on its biased trajectory as if by choice rather than physics. Emerging at the rim my saturated body felt a cooling wind from the river’s broad channel, carved from the multi-hued limestone stratification by a dying glacier in eons past. On a moss-cushioned stone I rested, staring at the vast sky as the sun was drawn to another man’s day by the planet’s mutable roaming…roaming…