Grand Canyon

When I visited the Grand Canyon, I found a quiet, unassuming spot to sit and stare at the earthly void. As I sat on a ledge under a tree, feet dangling over a cliff, I wrote down the following:


October 13, 2009

As I sit upon this rock a foot away from a long descent, tremors occur throughout my being.

The air is crisp, cool and nourishing. Clouds blot across the sky, unable to conceal the blue like a twin size blanket over a king size bed. The canyon itself is dangerously beautiful or beautifully dangerous depending on one's demeanor. The canyon's layers of red sand are fitting; displaying its age with a coat of rust or dried lifeblood of mother earth.

There is a quiet demand of respect gazing upon the ominous shadows of the clouds above onto the belly of the canyon. The trees are still until a whizzing car or cool breeze passes by causing the leaves to chatter. Birds enclosed in black float along the canyon like dark confetti in the wind. Truly, this indentation of the earth reminds man of how small he truly is in this mystic unforgiving world.

As the tremors ease in my body, I truly know what it means to gaze upon such beauty and respectfully fear it.