Pre-dawn rain. Black wetness, wet blackness. Slick on scooter, weaving through the lights that crack and sparkle, drop and dart until part by part blackness overtakes. My lamp light vision shows just black greenness on either side of the road, narrowing more and more as plant life creeps in from the sides.
Photo by Bob Clark from Pexels
The end of the road, the beginning of the path. Green speckled sodden wood steps and rails point up the slope. The rain here, up, hardly falling, but being all around, like experience itself. Clear and bright, silvery white and transparent gems sparkle and refract delicately hanging from every bough, leaf, needle, blade, log, flower, twig and pod.
The invisible sun apparently rises as the blackness greys, deep and textured. Step by step I rise into the blanket wetness. Cloud walking, the air is tangible; shifting and swirling.
Almost the summit; a graceful pine leans out over the deep flat grey expanse of the chasm. Each needle scattered with shiny specks. Spider web suspending droplets over the nothingness, frozen still; all is still and I alone but for the sight, the smell, the auditory emptiness, the closed in damp warm to my skin allowing me to be perfectly with the very environment.