Cycling Through Trees

A rainy bicycle ride in a forest full of trees turns into thoughts that lead me to my love.

Pedal Forward

I am riding my bike fast through a forest.

There are coast redwood trees high above me. Each second the trees past me as I pedal forward.

I do not look back because this is a difficult trail to ride. I need to focus on what is ahead. There are dark clouds above me, and I am starting to feel raindrops on my head.

I keep moving faster, and the faster I go the more I zone out.

My mind goes to a different place. I feel as if I am looking at myself from above, watching myself riding my bike through the woods in the rain.

I love the smell of damp leaves and I love seeing the raindrops fall ever so slowly off the leaves.

What does all this mean? Our existence, what does it mean?

Why are there so many distractions?

I am doing too much lately. I need to focus on one thing, on one book, on one concept.

Stop trying to figure out everything all at once, take a step back, and pick one thing to work on or at least a few things. I analyze myself and feel like I haven’t done anything. I haven’t learned anything.

I made it out of the forest, and now I am on an empty street.

Alone

The road is wet, the sky is dark, and there is a forest full of trees on both sides of me as I ride on this uninhabited road. I feel hollow inside. Are we all truly alone?

I need to be more positive.

These magnificent trees, are so old and know so much. They benefit the earth so greatly. I always get humbled whenever I am around them. The secrets they hold of times past.

It’s all connected; the past, present, and future.

I wonder who my ancestors were, would they like who I am? Sometimes I think that they are with me. I know that sounds strange, but all their genetics are within me somehow. Right?

All the decisions they made led up to me, and my life. Are my life choices somehow connected to them?

The seasons may change, and the leaves may fall, but we will always be the same tree standing tall.

I make this poem up in my head and when I get home I will write it down in my journal.

I am almost home.

My Love, You Are My Home

My home is wherever my love is; my wife is my love, she is my home.

I see the lights on in our house and I am heading over there quickly.

I begin to feel butterflies in my soul, and I have flashbacks of our youthful years in high school where I would chase her around with my heart on my sleeve, she knew she captured me, but she wanted to be chased because she wanted to know for sure how deep my love was for her. She needed to trust me, and I showed she could trust me.

She can trust me with forever.

Me and my wife were always connected, and we always have felt it.