Beyond the horizon, where there are trees and moulded cliffs, I walked and stumbled away from it all. For some, the city—with its lights and cars—is a never ending party. Oh, but if only I felt it, too.

No, instead of all that muck I prefer the trail. All of the trees, and I don’t know their names, but I know them all the same.

I’ve been here many times, and watched the seasons morph the terrain in rain and snow, but today, I stopped to scratch my head in wonder.

A tree unlike others lay in my path. And what made it strange was it came into view only when I stepped near, but seemed to reach into the clouds.

Never have I wished to climb a tree, but never has a tree grown so tall. Onto the trunk, then branch after branch, the bark rubbed rough against my hands. Yet through the climb, I found the world far; climbing higher made the treetops seem small, then the clouds—and climbing still—the Earth.

Up and away, further and further, until the orb named home seemed to me to only be a branch of the tree. It extended into the stars and passed the planets, and on and on. There, I found a branch in space, and not to snob, I stopped to rest and felt the beating of my chest.

With the world beneath my aching arms, I looked back to home again.

Out among the stars, I waited to hear the sound of anything, but was met with none. Though I wished the city sound to cease, with none to hear, I wished it to increase.

Though the beauty of all called me still, I turned back to climb down and resume my way-to see the hills and trees, and to hear the birds sing a song’s whisper on the edge of the wind.