I saw a moment in life where everything made sense. It felt like an eternity during that one moment. The birds chirped, the sun rose above the horizon seamlessly, and the farm was calm. At that moment my arms rested above the metal rod fence and toes of my boots resting on the last rung. It was a tall fence overlooking wild bulls raging inside, a turmoil of madness, matching the roaring tornado of my soul.
Longhorn pushing and snorting in aggravation of being in a small cage wanting to be freed. I bucked back but hung on with every ram to the fenced gate watching them in wonder and awe.
I often found curiosity in the sense of drowning and found it. I soaked in the hype, the powerful storm of chaos, running from a bear, falling into the war of the river at a young age, most would have been afraid but I made a game of it.
As the years pass me by, as the ranch decreases in work, and as the daily routine draws on. I find myself..
Drowning. In the stillness of the gated fence. The empty mouth that held the key to make me feel alive. I'm close to dying without the rage of a bull.
And then a good western comes on,
And I feel alright, again.
/Arlo's POV./
YOU ARE READING
The River Ranch
DiversosA little history, snippets (aka short scences), random nonsense of a family living in Wimberely Texas -- one day, it might turn into a full novel but, I don't know. Copyrighted.