Why Does The Country Smell So Sweet?

-Anachrony

The wind that blows takes away all disgust. The clear blue skies inspire dreams. The soft grass comforts anything that lands on it. The trees sway gracefully as the sun sets between them in all the splendour a fiery ball of gas could ever radiate. It is cool, and the consistent sound of rustling leaves fade in and out placing sleep into the hearts of anyone nearby. The clarity of it all enhances the tolerability of the world. The wayward drop of rain lands upon the grass. The neutral smell of the wonder creates a sense of peace. Eden was probably like this.

Everything looked so perfect from so far away.

I cried my eyes dry that day. I vomited out my guts. I bled my skin dry. I died, and I was led there. The wondrous place of peace, where nothing disturbed anything. I tried my best to stay; I tried to grip the trees, to smell the smells, to see the sights, to feel the grass, to breathe the air. I tried to be a part of the wondrous place to live in pure, unadulterated existence among the wondrous fragments that constructed this world. But, like flowing water, my stay was short.

I wanted to cut myself free from this world. I wanted to rename myself. I wanted to save myself. I wanted to live there, to exist in utter harmony as a being that no longer needed to conform to the world. I needed escape. Or, so my therapist said.

The only way to reach there was to walk through the passing road of the dead.

Everything changed upon my return.

I wanted to relieve myself and escape there.

I couldn’t take it anymore, I wanted out, and upon my request, a kind enough man granted it.

With a blast that echoed eternally, and blinded more than he and I, I returned, guided by the sun.