Sunday, November 9, 2014

Killing The Cynic

Written at the top of Table Mountain, Cape Town, South Africa
8 November 2014


The sun hangs low at the edge of the horizon.

Below there is nothing but an ocean of clouds.

I’m sitting on top of a mountain, 1067 meters straight up.  


There is another world up here. Bushes with flowers thrive despite powerful winds and an inhospitable climate. I cross my arms and wish I had brought a thicker jacket.

The jagged edges of the cliffs resemble a crude staircase, the steps covered in the green of vegetation, everything else in the reddish-brown of rock and dirt. 

I cannot see land or sea; the cottony clouds obscure all signs of life below, as if I am in a plane and we are hovering above the earth.


Further up the sky is an intense blue; peaceful but insistent, screaming its tranquility.

I can hear my own thoughts but they are coming faster than I can write.


How fortunate the souls who have made the trip up here and have indulged their eyes to such  wonder.

It’s nature at her theatrical best, showing off her majesty as she often does.



It’s sustenance for the spirit, the way prayer can sometimes be.

I take a deep breath, take it all in, and close my eyes.

And gratitude fills my heart.



1 comment:

  1. First photo, so gorgeous! And, on that note, do go back to this post everytime you feel that black hole gnawing at you. You've got so much to be grateful for :)

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