Back To The Middle Of Nowhere

All this fuss and bustle
Is making me sweat.
I want to go back to the hush
And the rustle of leaves against bark,
Breeze rushing through grass.
Air that’s fresh and cold
Sweet, smokeless air.
I want to go back to the middle of nowhere.
Where I can hold my hands out wide and touch nothing.
Where I can sit, alone, in silence.
With no other thoughts than of the present, and the sky.
Where I can walk and walk and walk,
And never meet a soul.

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