LAMENTATIONS 

In the hills are winding roads. And the roads take him to vistas, the heart of vistas, the intoxication of vistas, the truth of vistas high above the fog and bay. Vistas of islands and ships, the geometry of famous cities, the smell of oily leaves. The silence of vistas!

"Where ever I go on this planet I will remember you, my vistas!"

He spots the squares that contain him. It is there, always rolling and simmering in summer rains that break from the Mexican storms. In his greatest freedom he hovers over conflict and laughs gently at the foolish maneuvering. "What will you do when you understand the stupidity of your conflict?"

© 2001 David Eide. All rights reserved.