I walked out this morning,
It was like a veil had been removed from before my eyes
For the first time I saw the work of heaven
In the line where the hills had been married to the sky
All around me
Every blade of singin' grass was [calling out to me, calling out to me]
- Gordon Sumner
At the end of my day today, I took a slow bicycle ride home. When I began I did not think I had the strength to complete the journey. I would certainly arrive home after day's end. Soon enough I felt my stamina return. I went at a deliberate bicycle's equivalent of a saunter. My purer, non-timed life came back to me as I traveled upper Rivers Avenue where I used to live. I passed the old home, and decided to take an overpass towards Summerville. It was small and low, but still rose my thoughts to a higher plane. There was about 30 minutes of daylight left, and what I saw was soft and warm. The road extended a bit beyond the guardrail and abruptly shifted to short pampas grass and marsh bush. It felt as though I was looking from a castle fortress at my benevolent kingdom, looking at the fields bathed in orange light. The light was just disappearing behind the clouds. This is the US 52/78 Split, where my cycling life began. This patch of half-manicured, half-wild land is what I'd pass through countless times. These are the gates to the rest of South Carolina. It all comes full-circle right here. This was my old land. So lush, so winding, so all mine.
It was like a veil had been removed from before my eyes
For the first time I saw the work of heaven
In the line where the hills had been married to the sky
All around me
Every blade of singin' grass was [calling out to me, calling out to me]
- Gordon Sumner
At the end of my day today, I took a slow bicycle ride home. When I began I did not think I had the strength to complete the journey. I would certainly arrive home after day's end. Soon enough I felt my stamina return. I went at a deliberate bicycle's equivalent of a saunter. My purer, non-timed life came back to me as I traveled upper Rivers Avenue where I used to live. I passed the old home, and decided to take an overpass towards Summerville. It was small and low, but still rose my thoughts to a higher plane. There was about 30 minutes of daylight left, and what I saw was soft and warm. The road extended a bit beyond the guardrail and abruptly shifted to short pampas grass and marsh bush. It felt as though I was looking from a castle fortress at my benevolent kingdom, looking at the fields bathed in orange light. The light was just disappearing behind the clouds. This is the US 52/78 Split, where my cycling life began. This patch of half-manicured, half-wild land is what I'd pass through countless times. These are the gates to the rest of South Carolina. It all comes full-circle right here. This was my old land. So lush, so winding, so all mine.
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