wandering through the trunks of trees that strive to breathe in the dust-choked land of the future, i watch as my hands touch bark that is too rough, too real for me to just ignore. i once walked to a dead ship hidden in the woods with a young lady and we touched the plants and animals as we walked through the swamps and summer heat. we were both strangers to eachother, new friends, and we both found something we were looking for; i found hope of a less mundane existence, she found hope of escape from the drudgery of pointless wandering. we both looked at eachother and saw lighthouses lit by ancient keepers who had long departed, and followed those lights with our eyes shut even when we knew they were fading.
it is now years later, and i still shut my eyes and feel those plants we touched, see the cracks in the sidewalk pass underneath my sweating feet, and i still look for lighthouses in everyones eyes hoping that the storm will soon subside and that all will be clear, and that i will not find myself thrust upon the jagged rocks.