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Twin Lakes from Trail - Sierra Nevada 2016 |
And the way the lake below us soon became a toy lake with
those black well holes perfectly visible still, and the giant cloud shadows on
the lake, and the tragic little road winding away where poor Morley was walking
back.
"Can you see Morl down back there?"
Japhy took a long look. "I see a little cloud of dust,
maybe that's him comin back already." But it seemed that I had seen the
ancient afternoon of that trail, from meadow rocks and lupine posies, to sudden
revisits with the roaring stream with its splashed snag bridges and undersea
greennesses, there was something inexpressibly broken in my heart as though I'd
lived before and walked this trail, under similar circumstances with a fellow
Bodhisattva, but maybe on a more important journey, I felt like lying down by
the side of the trail and remembering it all. The woods do that to you, they always
look familiar, long lost, like the face of a long-dead relative, like an old
dream, like a piece of forgotten song drifting across the water, most of all
like golden eternities of past childhood or past manhood and all the living and
the dying and the heartbreak that went on a million years ago and the clouds as
they pass overhead seem to testify (by their own lonesome familiarity) to this
feeling.
- Jack Kerouac, The Dharma Bums