Writing Marathon Piece

The Rolling Prairie

I step onto the squishy soil beneath me, and inhale the fresh air.

My lungs have never breathed anything this clean.

The landscape was untouched by humanity,

staring at me awaiting my arrival.

 

No sound to be heard, no breeze to be felt.

Distant trees in the horizon,

binding the prairie within.

How have I not experienced this before?

This beauty sitting on my front door.

 

A shock of reality and I accept my surroundings.

This is a part of my history.

This is a part of me.

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