Hills

Thoughtfully I shut my eyes and see. What I see is this: I'm alone on a hill. The hill is green and beautiful, significant and imposing. I smile seeing this, but soon I feel in this magnificence something is missing. What could it be? In vain I begin to search my hill. Looking, gazing, digging, climbing, dreaming. Nowhere do I find this thing i don't understand. The need for it overcomes me. My core, my essence, my thoughts all rot away. Other wanderers sometimes visit my hill. I run to them asking "Can you help me?" They give me a passing glance, and saying nothing worth hearing they walk on looking for something they themselves desire. I sigh and continue searching, my gaze rigidly stuck to the ground just in front of my feet. Sadly my preoccupied mind fails to notice a change on the hill. A fog bank rolls over. Light mist at first, becoming heavy, dense and isolating. The magnificence I had admired before had left, its departure I never noticed. In truth the majesty of the hill remained, only I couldn't see through my deceptive fog. Blinded, I start to panic. My search becomes misled and aimless. My mind twists and logic evades me. All I want is this thing I know nothing of. My time blurs into a consistency of oppression. The pressure builds, I reach my threshold. No longer, I say, laying down to die, will I search for this thing. This thing I now hate. The grass greets my back with comfort, my neck with cooling dew, my nose with earthy smells. I consider this a good place to die. But I don't, I just lay on. Relaxing, thinking, reflecting. Time once again blurs. And out of time I notice a change, a small change in my environment. The fog above me begins to clear, slowly at first, then rapidly it billows out of my vision. What's this I see? Beautiful stars fill the night sky. Strangely content I lay on, gazing at the stars. A true beauty hidden by the illusive magnificence of the sun and my green pastures.