Lately, I have been attempting to resurrect the person within me, the true me. I found that after my ordeal in 2006 that I had strayed from my chosen path and became a wandering soul lost in this maze of life. Decisions were no longer direct and simple, enjoyment of activities were minimal and I was constantly aching for something that is undefined. Everything I participated with still left an empty void.
And then last week, I finally discovered the void within my galaxy. I spent 5 glorious days reacquainting myself with Nature. Primal desires crested to new heights within quelching my yearnings for guidance. I spontaneously morphed into another person knowing all things regarding Nature and learning again all the aspects of Nature's cycle of life. I instinctively knew of the paths to venture allowing Nature to saturate my soul and mind with her beauty.
My connections with Nature rejuvenated my spirit as I reconnected with my lost soul. I cared not the elements were harsh, rainy, cold, windy and sometimes a sunny warm inviting environment. I cared not that deer, squirrels, birds, and many other forms of Nature went about their daily lives. I was at home...I found my peace and light shown through my void that plagued me for a decade. I had made peace within myself and with Nature. I found my path once again and my sanctuary from everyday life.
And then I remembered something I penned in 1987: "Peace and Tranquility; of oneness with Nature and God."
And yesterday's light reading brought forth a poetic piece I'd long forgotten.
I heard a thousand blended notes
While in a grove I sate reclined,
In that sweet mood when pleasant thoughts
Bring sad thoughts to the mind.
To her fair works did Nature link
The human soul that through me ran;
And much it grieved my heart to think
What Man has made of Man.
Through primrose tufts, in that sweet bower,
The periwinkle trail'd its wreaths;
And 'tis my faith that every flower
Enjoys the air it breathes.
The birds around me hopp'd and play'd,
Their thoughts I cannot measure,—
But the least motion which they made
It seem'd a thrill of pleasure.
The budding twigs spread out their fan
To catch the breezy air;
And I must think, do all I can,
That there was pleasure there.
If this belief from heaven be sent,
If such be Nature's holy plan,
Have I not reason to lament
What Man has made of Man?