With every turn of the meandering mountain roads I wonder if something more than sugi and concrete walls will meet my eyes. A little stream flowing under a bridge. Broken views of what seems to be endless hills. Not much ever changes. Too late to turn back. Too much commitment to going forward is the constant problem. It's the same as my favorite mountains. Clear when I leave but foggy when I get close. I know what lies behind the thick fog. It isn't good enough though. I want to see something. How much of the mundane will we allow ourselves to be satisfied with? Before you know it you are crossing over a mountain ridge and entering another microcosm. Here you are hoping for the best knowing half the time nothing will be your reward. Yet we push onward. Same story again and again.
Then a sign might catch your eye. The car only takes you so far. The feet have to do the rest. Adjacent vacant roads are losing their fight with nature. The steep edges losing to the rain. The concrete yielding its once strong grasp. In a way you are glad. In a way it's sad. The warm sun slowly turning cold. The distant view of a waterfall hidden away.
Your interest might be piqued again. The path doesn't end.
The ropes only convey one message. Go forward. The valley is ready to leave its green behind and go to fall.
What great fate has kept this tranquil spot at bay?
The giant rock slide is responsible you could say. Yet a clear path remains.
Well, is that the something I came to find? It's shadowy stare left me chilled. It's then you realize the time has come to go home.
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