A place of solitude

Today is the first trip into a new mindset
Riding on two wheels of teenage rebellion and loss of identity the clots in my brain seem to break apart
Allowing a better flow of blood to the dying parts of my mind
The trees all seem to lean in closer to me, almost bowing towards me the further I get into the woods
Like millions of intravenous tubes filling me with the spirits of the forest inhabitants

I was born in a cement building with more technology than open arms
Id like to call the wilderness my real birthplace
Because here I feel like I have been made whole
Because up in the mountains I feel like I actually belong
Away from drive lawn mowers and heated seats
Far from bleeding ears and a lack of earplugs
The only harsh words I hear are the ones my own mind entertains
And lately I have become quite the jester

Trading in my electric stove and running water for clean air and beds made of grass
A bed I can actually get a good nights rest in

I have been walking for five years
Living for three
Dying for eight
And rationalizing everything I have done this past year
Seventeen years of stubbed toes from running into the walls and steel toed boots of others
After all this time I still haven't earned my first aid merit badge

In the wilderness' first dictionary of nature, there exists no word "wall"
Walls were made to keep things away
Out among the stars the only thing that needs to be kept at bay are the evil thoughts dancing in your head
The ones that can only be burned away

Each fire grows a bit brighter
As my conversations become longer and longer the trees become more willing to sacrifice themselves for my warmth
Long lost poems and pictures I've made pay tribute to their kind deeds
Living on in sparks and smoke stained clothes their spirits will never be torched away

In the outdoors one can act deliberately
Whether they choose to live, love, or die
The deer and squirrels have never been known to ostracize

The only judgeful eyes in nature are the ones on the back of your head
The ones who care what others think
The ones not yet cured by the smoke of many fires