I felt inspired today. Last one for now...

I used to go out there in the rain, in the winter, it didn’t really matter as long as I could go out there I was happy. It was like time travel in a way. A long walk through those wooded trails, remembering people who were no longer there to accompany me, just apparitions I suppose now. They reside in the spots where I remember them interacting with the environment and for varied periods of time with myself. The happy, the young, the melancholy, the lonely, the content, the high, all sorts. Where they have gone I know not, but there, when able, I still dwell. This is much the reason it is like my own personal time machine. All it takes is a few brief steps beyond the vision of the present into the sometimes dark undergrowth is a peace and tranquility that still occupies the vacuum left by those I used to see and or wander there with. Memories abound. I sometimes stop to note the apparition of myself in areas that have been photographed by my conscious memory. I stop, greet him, and enjoy whatever pleasures he might have been physically enjoying or interacting with at the time. As vivid as his dress, youth, appearance, etc. it is all there repeating what he or they had done once upon a time, now just over and over and over. Even when I am not there to note him or the others I once might have been out there. In the dark and still of night, all these memories repeat. Pieces of the living, an essence of sorts, still wandering this beautiful green sanctuary I was introduced to so long ago. Not the dead, just memories of the living, as they once were, in the spots to which they were noted by myself. I am sure a vast collection of memories belonging to other folks do the same, but to this I am not sure. I only feel a wonderful sensation of familiarity. I know not what another who has frequented the place might feel. For I have for years now, wandered alone. Please don’t lament, I don’t drop to my knees and weep when a former love might appear, unnoticing me. The solemn, or even sad events of a trip outside feel just as pleasant as something with a bit more cheer interlaced with what I see. Thus, time marches on…