Desert Pilgrim
I love the desert. There is something within me that will forever be visiting those arid lands with their green scrub brush, their orange dust, and their cloudless blue skies. All the desert objects live with their colors muted by the relentless sun which also creates sharp contrasts along the jagged rocks, and singes the vast open spaces; seemingly filled with nothing, but full of everything my imagination brings. God is right there, slithering around with the reptiles, hiding in holes with the tarantula, carried by the wind along with the scent of creosote; alive and bubbling, like the little spring where the cottonwood grows. I go to the desert to remember my insignificance, and to more easily be with God. Yet I cannot stay, for like the water, my life carries me elsewhere.
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