It’s midsummer, and I find myself in a torn flannel shirt and a beanie better suited for winter than hiking dusty trails.

I don’t care, they comfort me, shield me from the glances of strangers that don’t understand.

I sit on the edge of unsteady rocks and see if my weight will start the inevitable slide.

Among the forested trees there is rumored to be a Blue Pool, fed by glacial springs and clearer than all the spouting of religion.

It’s my quest to see such an offering.

Yet one needs to remember about getting what one asks for. The clearness of one’s reflection in the Blue Pool shows truths you may rather stay hidden…..

or force a reconciliation of the spirit.

Wench, bring my ale, what say you?

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