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// New Outlooks 
// Story: Taking Nature Inland 
// by DynamicEquilibrium115 
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The trip was swift, quiet villages and booming cities across valleys and mountains were passed in the moment of what felt to be a leisurely trot. It was me and her, that special pony that from which my eyes first beheld did not let go, that held a passion months of unsuccessful wooing could not undo. It was for her that I partook in this journey, an expedition of self-discovery by her words, making tracks across gleaming flat concrete to the soaked and battered edge of the coast.

We arrive as brave day sinks into hideous night, the summer star sent away replaced by tinsel of the Milky Way, hooves moving along unfamiliar ground till the purchase of lofty loam finds them. Next day we arise to coverings of dark cloud that a legion of pegasi could not hope to clear, foreboding dullness protruding towards us with rays of heavenly desire gracing small spots from here to the raging sea. Sprawling masses of vegetation lie to the east, and unforgiving torrent of salt wash dominate our view but interest lies in one small beaten off path into the brush. 

Three hooves in and the forest changes, towering trees of ominous expression and an uncertain sense of one’s direction turn bright installing an unmatched confidence that our destination will happily greet our expected arrival. Flowers of a dark and thoughtful blue gradually morph into a jubilant and reminiscent red forming rainbows of life across the hard ground. As light makes its wonderful return, shining bliss revisits the green masses instilling all around us a grandiose display of nature’s prominence. The exit receives us shortly revealing a different world, not in appearance but in heart and mind, where one’s spirit is lifted and new outlooks created. 

The lone lighthouse stood, stoic and proud, unfazed by rushing waves that assaulted its base, capable and strong, smooth stone untarnished by salty air. Memories and images of former lives lay chiseled into nearby rock, past partners and friends sharing happy 
moments, each blank space open to new entry.

She carves two ponies, her and myself, with a crude but admirable imitation. She circles the work with stars and hearts and asks to be accompanied to the top of the lighthouse. Inside a musty smell overtakes one’s senses and cold air rushes in and out chilling our bodies as if trying to push us back. A glorious salvation embraces us at the top as the sun appears over the sea bidding farewell, rough tides smooth over and gently flowing currents pass by.  She leans in closer and I put a foreleg over her as the blanket of stars cover us and the glow of the moon illuminates our view across the water. 

We stay there for a long time.