Lucid Driving
It stands alone in the middle of a field of trees that have been chopped down, and I don’t have a logical reason for why it was spared. It has no leaves to conceit, and its color is an opaque white hue that I can only further describe as a glow against the brown scenery. But the bare branches stretch to the sky, and the long neck of its trunk reaches past the limit of anything nearby. It’s serenely beautiful, and the vision brings a quite lull to my day, and to the anticipation I inherit every moment I think about going back to the alien planet I call home.
Sometimes I think I am special, and take warm consolation in the fact that no one may see the tree the way I do. There are other times when I hope that maybe someone looks at that tree and perceives the true essence of its simplicity. Maybe there is someone who looks forward to the site of it’s broken bark every time they frequent the redundant 520 highway, and if such a person exists, then hopefully I will never meet their face. Somehow I will just realize that I am not alone, and no longer need that substantiality.
