Faithless

We were all sitting together under the trees, quiet for the moment, relaxing and absorbed by our own thoughts and it surprised no one when you got up and began to shake off the aches and pains from leaning too long in one position. I thought of doing it too but I was mired in a dream about peace and comfort and was afraid to let it go. I guess we all had our private revelations that day but none of us wanted to share them. Yours was public and visible to our naked eyes. Maybe I've lost my faith in communion or maybe I'm just getting bogged down by my own myopia. All I do is read about epiphany and have yet to experience it for myself. You said goodbye and some of us, the ones stretched out on the grass, pretending to appreciate the good weather and our companionship, answered with lazy waves and a nod and fell back into our thoughts. That makes three this month alone, including you. We're not worried about that. It's a fact of life that sooner or later some or all of us will stand up and take stock of the situation and decide that the comfort of our dreams might not be enough to sustain us, but for now we're fine, here under these trees, tired and melancholy and alone despite our numbers. I reached out and picked up a pine cone that had fallen from the tree I sat under and imagined that it was a life just waiting to explode and then I wondered if I would be here to see it and then I wandered down into a reverie about the causes and the catalysts that provoke change and then I wished that one day I could see the world the way you do and will want to stand up and leave my spot, here under these trees, to find out if the world really is the way you say it is.