Cigarettes and Perfume

         You wake as you feel your arm going numb. Trapped beneath a sleeping mountain you breathe in the air of her forests- cigarettes and perfume.  You traverse the range single handedly, leaving barely a trace, treading ever so lightly. You feel the earth tremble beneath you, your soft touch almost rousing her from those endless dreams. You begin to fall into the valley and as you descend you marvel at the gradual changes in environment- having left the peaks the heat becomes unbearable. You circle around once and find your way back to the lowest part of the mountain trail, a soft glacial valley where the earth is smooth and warm. The cradle of life. The numbness returns to mind.

          Apart from your arm- she presses against your being with a perfection you only imagine achievable by divine inspiration. You know this to be true even as you think it. Here, alone, you begin to feel a sense of stewardship. You are her protector. You continue your explorations now with this duty in mind. Cigarettes and perfume. You dive into the water, and lay your lips against the smooth bed beneath. She is alive, and her warmth caresses the softness of your mouth, and you feel her smiling at their touch. A prickling in the crook of your arm.

         Along you go, reveling in all her natural splendor. The beauty of this life embracing you. But you stumble, and now across these forests you see the myriad scars of fires self inflicted or sparked by some unknown number of previous caretakers. Perhaps you should leave her be- allow this world time to recover from years of human presence. A breeze sweeps through the charred landscape. Cigarettes and perfume.  You contemplate the scenery a second time. The ashes are fertile, and you are as imperfect as this place. The burns are not markers of the fragility of this land, but of her resilience. These scars are scattered throughout the forest, and you relish the thought of encountering them during your travels, always awaiting discovery no matter how familiar with the trees you may become. They are beautiful reminders of her mortality, her strength, her humanity. Sweat beads across your brow and your arm refuses to wipe it off.

          You return to the peaks. From here you can feel the breath of the world, her movement, her heartbeat against your chest. The vastness of it all coming to you again. No. You are not her caretaker. What arrogance. Your life is travel, is discovery, is learning. This is what you will do while here. Learn, explore, and grow to love this beautiful land while you are welcome. And then you will move on. Even as you are lost in her heartbeats you can feel thousands of others surrounding you. Trees become grasslands, become deserts, become oceans. The comfortable familiarity you will inevitably foster for her is no guarantee of happiness, but fear. And the breeze carries with it that aroma of cigarettes and perfume. You ignore the numbness, savoring it while you can. Wrapping your other arm around  her you bury your face in her neck, breathing deeply, kissing her. For now you belong here. The world may be large but for the moment, all you need is in your grasp.