Mendip Hills

Somerset, UK

Images: George Bale     Words: Aiden Harmitt-Williams

 

...and the further I walked

I noticed more the work that God had done.

The ethereality of Mother Nature

surrounded me in that almost alien landscape,

and I did my best to let her presence

encompass my own.

The realisation of my insignificance in that plain

was almost a blessing.

To be a part of that side of the Earth,

put me at ease, much like the Caribbean seas

where urban architecture,

and the never stagnant lifestyle

has the ability to poison the most peaceful of men.

Its cityscape palette devoid of colour,

filled furthermore with empty distractions

that pale in comparison.

As my lungs filled with an air more pure then before,

after the experiences of the toxicity of London,

that place was an escape.

A release of the tension piled onto my shoulders

by the pressures of men, 

living in that depressurised cubicle

the stress had been cutting into my cuticle,

but in that moment I was free. 

It is strange how the outside gave me more pleasure than the outside inside of the city. 

Being outside inside is a pleasure all in itself

but I am not one there. 

There we are many, confined to our separate spaces

both physical and digital,

but outside of the man made outside --

we are one. 

Where life's heart beats through every part 

of the naturalistic architecture,

walking through a piece of my peaceful self

is a simple pleasure in the world of men.

 

My footsteps softly etched in nature 

encouraged me that I would be remembered.

Passers by may wonder about their journey-sake,

and have a freedom same as I.