The wilderness loves me back

The wild does not ask for anything
but presence.
It does not shrink to fit me—
it expands,
and in doing so,
invites me to expand too.

I walk among its quiet kings:
ancient trees,
towering and tender,
arms outstretched like elders
blessing my return.

The air is fuller here.
Every inhale tastes of pine,
of soil,
of stories I cannot name
but feel
in the stillness.

The river sings in a language
older than memory.
The mountains stand like gods
carved by time and storm,
teaching me reverence
without a single word.

I am so small here—
so gloriously small—
and somehow,
that makes me feel infinite.

I give thanks with every step,
each footfall a prayer
for the gift of this untouched grace.
For the sky that opens
and the earth that holds.
For the knowing
that I am part of this.
Not apart from it.

The wilderness
loves me back
without question,
without condition.

And I,
grateful beyond language,
offer the only thing
I have to give:
my awe.