Gaudineer Tuesday, November 26, 2024

I dream of places like Gaudineer Knob, West Virginia.

Covered in a thick layer of green.

The mossiest place I’ve ever wished to see.

Undisturbed.

Serene.

Beautiful.

I want to sit down on nature’s softest bed and feel at one with the green surrounding me.

I want to reach down and pet the moss;

I want to caress the Earth.

I want to witness the beauty of nature and understand my place.

I am merely a creature sitting atop the moss.

I am merely someone who appreciates the softest of realities.

Then why do I make mine so hard?

Moss is simple seeming.

It’s soft.

It’s green.

It’s damp.

But under its lush are its roots.

Planted deep into the soft ground,

moisture trapped by the inches tall canopy above it,

the roots expand into a network which survives this moss even as time passes and rain refuses to fall.

The moss withstands, so why can’t I?

The moss is uneventful.

Being as small as it is, it doesn’t sway in the wind;

Being as soft as it is, it doesn’t push against the things above it;

Being as damp as it is, it doesn’t falter under the weight of a foot or hoof;

Being as it is, it is beautiful.

Being as I am, am I?

The moss is inspiring.

Unassuming but important.

A background without which the world is hollow,

A beauty among nature’s majesty,

Moss is wonderful. As am I.