It seems that my wanderlust has returned yet again. I’m no stranger to such feelings however, they frequent many times a year but never so powerful as when Autumn approaches.
The increasingly golden sunsets, the chill evening breeze hinting at the soon to be arrival of cooler weather.
The iridescent foliage of the trees and bushes as each becomes more vibrant in colour, accentuated further by the aureate sunlight as it shimmers through the leaves.
My heart aches to spend time alone in the parting dusk of Summer, not wanting to miss a single ethereal moment of the subtle changes now manifest in Nature. Out amongst the woods and forests, in the groves overgrown by bracken and silently watching a gossamer spectral mist arise slowly from the lakes.
It’s at times like this that I could so easily walk away from this fettered life of supposed domesticity with its alleged comfort and security. Following my souls primal call to be amongst Nature herself.
The urge as irresistible as a mermaids song, gentle and hypnotic but relentlessly demanding of the union of myself with Gaia.
I would gladly leave the demands of modern societys day to day machinations. The nine to five daily sacrifice of eight unredeemable hours in order to pay faceless companies for ‘necessities’ to which I have been socialised to accept as normal living.
Instead I would stroll in silence, through the long grass of the meadows and the copses of huddled trees, save for primordial sounds of birdsong and the gentle babble of nearby brooks.
To eventually lose any remnant of my human self, no longer able to distinguish where myself and the rest of creation were either to begin or end.