I nearly was...
With the wind...gone.
On a cliff top I stood, my being raw and exposed, my eyes straining like an antarctic penguin caught in a storm. Down below and far beyond the sea roared, swayed and surged, before tumbling onto disintegrated mountains. Tea tree permanently bowed to the wind, strength of character written all over their barren faces. I gaped at them, steadfast, how I had found all I wanted to be in nature. Despite the elements, they had wanted to grow, and stay there, so they did just that. For the view? I probably would too.
For this seemed like the edge of the world. I could tumble off and parachute around the universe. Catch a wave and grab a fin. Toss myself in the air, tickled by the wind.
I could have stood there for alot longer, had I been more appropriately clothed, and maybe I'd still have been there, gaping out yonder.
Insignificant to the vastness, but significant as a minority. Little being on a big hill.
I'll wander back someday, gather up my books, cameras and a tent, and disappear into the woods.