desert short 1

A place forsaken by most and forgotten by nature and tormented by sun now occupies my mind and thought and memory. The history of the place is shrouded by many mysteries of the disappeared. It is nearly void of vegetation and life. Rare is water that can be used. But it is alive and beautiful and flourishing. If I were to disappear there I would not be troubled. I wouldn’t even complain. I know of few who cherish the place. I dare to venture there when I seek adventure. No other place fills me so completely with awe and wonder as the deserts of the southwest.

There are traces of man that remain. But no man stayed very long. He left his mark and departed, as it were, with the wind. Only the echoes without voices remain. They resemble tunnels dug and roads cuts and structures built only to be abandoned by their makers. All these have their story. It is up to me to speculate and build a story for it. Looking at the echoes traces me to the past. To whose past? Well, that’s all part of the story.
Aside from the devices of men and the folklore of the natives, there are places of unspeakable beauty that have yet to be discovered or have been forgotten as the treasures of yesteryear. What nature has cut from the stone is truly remarkable. So remarkable in fact that the very description of one thing cannot be generalized as that of another. It is truly a place of mystery and awe.

Walking my way through the brush and the washes I follow friends into an unknown country. Leading us was a fellow who didn’t truly recall the locale of our trail. He had forgotten. I was route finding by studying the geography of the desert that I had come to understand over the years. I wasn’t agreeing with where we were. I couldn’t tell except that he had led us in a proper direction and I knew our destination when I saw it.