What is such an instance as this? As I approach the path in such a dreary night I recollect the departure stricken by fright; caped by a sullen loss tonight. I must gaze into nature’s free will for answers to my quandary; conscious voices echo off the buzzing screens lurking at every corner—might take hours or days for such ways to decipher my soul. Whole purged beams gleam onto the solemn sidewalk; cracks display the brittle skin it was corrupted with from birth. The burning poles offering warmth in the chilly summer’s air, the lilac scent prancing without care from fair fluorescent friends aware of the winding road. Past the globes of conformity, in the distance behind the shading tree, previous memories hold well—the lake parted into infinity—dwells the body of water for which answers can be found. Lying on the cold concrete, looking out onto the thick lake dwelling below me; I was free, seeing the water in a new light. The bright Moon offered tranquility during the hours spent in contemplation; pondering the piece of wood between my fingers as the night hides my plight upon my soul.
"We are parting ways," I said to the ominous sea which offered its ear to my plea, "but I must know why such feelings exist..."
Whispers though the ripples lead my eyes high, above thin specks of clouds trying in vain to disguise the gazing white eye; I replied,
"What is it then I seek?" Speaking in a different tongue, "What is true happiness in my heart?"
Again the twilight reflecting from the calm water guides my palm through the piece of wood. Shaping and molding it to my will, but what makes each piece unique? I peek into my thoughts to convey an answer, is it the value we place upon each piece or perhaps once the part ripped off from the original copy it become a new piece of a whole idea? The wood has spoken truths not found elsewhere, for the value comes from what we give it, and no matter how similar each may seem; some difference lies. Apply this knowledge to the final shape which my hands command of such a divine artifact. Is it fate that delivers such a profound message, or perhaps chance? For now lies a boat in my hands, its rough form resembles a bird from within my chest; trapped in a makeshift metal cage, hoping to one day breathe new air. Despair grips my soul at first knowing far too long that my nature is one that must be free, yet I know it's me who steers such sails on its course.
"I know now my goal," I say satisfied, yet hungry for more, “for its clear I must steer through treacherous seas and not fear, but what is it that I seek?"
The dense waves crash upon the gravel under me, angry that my curiosity still lingers, but still offers a voice. I spot a piece of paper drifting in the sea, its words dripping into it, becoming one. My ponderous mind obviously seeks truth, for it will quench its unlimited thirst. First, though without saying, such brown eyes must be of some importance if they cause such pain. Perhaps the pursuit of love can purge it, a catharsis in this endless abyss which persists without end. Her presence brings a song of comfort, a breath of new, a brew of elixir that once you have tasted its sweet aroma you are forever in a trance. Alas it is there! The answers spoken through natures language, all along were they available if one would have just listened. Repose controls me now, but one last task must be done. I will allow my boat to travel through these waters alone, yet I will not offer a farewell. For it is destined that someday I too will venture off, yet I know our paths will cross. It is not fate but my will, so I offer no goodbye, at least not yet...
