Lost Treasure

Back home. Loving a coffee at my local Starbucks. AND I have my laptop, all on my own, no sharing. God is in his heaven and all is right with the world.

I see an unfamiliar icon on my desktop. I click on it. In amazement I read a previously undiscovered essay from the recently prolific author, David Young. Evidently it was written the evening after David saw the Pacific Ocean. Bravo David. May we see many more lines from you.

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Now I am unable to discribe this land. In words. Other than to say. When I stood on the shore of the mother lake. That etheril legendary body from which all water and life arrises. It was as if a big boincer in a dark night club had crushed a football in my face. Making for a loud resounding boom! It was only after I had gotten into my motal room. That I realised the scale of what I had touched and tasted. For this was the great mother of waters. A true god. Whos veins flow with the same saltyness as my own blood. Of my freind Dales, Joes and even Barrys. It is the same tast of the meat that sustans me. Her water is the blood of all life. We came from her womb. And back to her we all must evently flow. For all rivers evently return to her. She is the alpha and omega of life. Which out her. Earth would just be another lifeless dead rock adrift in the cosmos. We owe her. Our gratitude. And our respect. She she holds life itself in her hands. The vegitation here is beyond discription. As if some gardener had gone mad. Planting every kind of green flowering thing. There are palm trees and a bewildering varity of fruit trees. All flowering plants are to found in profusion. Even cacti are well repersented. Yet no glass case or house incloses this ammazing garden. No did I see any sign of constent toil normly needed to grow such lush vegitation. Who ever the care taker of this wonderfull garden is. I sure have no complants as to his skill. A real master gardener is at work here.

And after having tasted and touched the mother lake. I now brace my self. For I am about to meet another lady. One I know well. Oh do I know this lady! For we have allready met. Before we ever met. For this lady. Who sets next to the mother lake. Has shown her face many times. In places where only sheep should reside to be counted. Her name is San Francisco. But she prefers to be called... San Fra... During the night. I am about to meet the lady of the night. Face to face. And this time. Nobody standing on the other side. Will write... I then wake up.

by David Young

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"I then wake up." That simple phrase completely captures the essence of our trip. David, Joe and I awoke to new thoughts and feelings on the journey. For me, it was an awakening to beauty that has always surrounded me. A beauty that waits patiently while I strive and struggle to "achieve", to "be somebody", to fulfill a "destiny". Thanks to Nature's power and David's Dream I am once more occupied with being Just Dale, nothing more, nothing less. It is enough. Thanks David.