The rays were reflected, glistening against the blue sea waves on the shore as he walked alone amidst people he had nothing in common with.
It was cold but not hot. Not cold enough to wear a coat, but too hot to dress cold.
Thoughts of dedication arose in his mind. There could be no purpose to his presence there, amongst nature’s finest creations. Yet, he read that perhaps it was emotionally healthy to wean yourself away from your regular daily vices once in a while and take life in a slow uncomplicated manner.
But the banter that surrounded him awoke familiar feelings within him, reminding him of his strolls, of his school days, of his arguments with the argumentative. He stared at the ground and attempted to free his awareness away from it, and quickened his pace.
The contradicting thoughts within him, the need to react to such impurities and dishonesties versus his need to be unaffected by the vileness that surrounded him seemed to consume more of his air, forcing him to breathe heavier.
People were no longer people. They were obstacles, ruining the entire purpose of his visit here. He quickly hopped over a small creek and disappeared into the little sand bank. As he felt the murmur fade away, he took cool deep breaths. Bit he still felt unresolved.
The optimism, thin as it may have been, could perhaps have been used to catalyze positivity in his system, disrupting the sadness and loneliness that plagued every silent moment he witnessed. Perhaps, in this plethora of beauty he would have found some meaning for his existence, and their existence, and rekindled some belief in God, or a spiritual plane.
But now it was gone. He looked at the beach & people around and saw commercialism, organized hypocrisy, unnatural beauty mutated by chemicals, fooling all those that walked the sand into thinking that the world was a beautiful place with meaning and vibrant color.
The mountain far in the sea up in distance where the sun appears from and sinks back in attracted his attention, and how glorious it looks, how the water serenades around, above and through that mountain in harmony;
He started reciting words and murmurs to himself, at first it had no meaning but later on, it started to make sense;
Through dark holes and crevices
It seeps through and through
From its place in the sun
Down to the droplets of the ocean below
It flows through the layers
Replenishing all that it touches
Passing stagnant pools
Stirring and collecting those that desire
To be dynamically transformed
Its continuous motion never quells
Gushing through cracks
In between fractures of age old cliff
Gathering momentum as separate flows combine
Polishing stones as it maneuvers over
Its echoing trickle slowly building
Moving faster before falls
Drizzling through the air
Its silver body suddenly breaking
Into droplets and a spray of particles
Finally hitting the mineral from where it will continue
Its vivacious journey
Through the jungle that it feeds
The Soul of the Waterfall
I believe that scene was the only contemplating image that shock him back to his…..Senses.
~A spoken word is a moment. A written word is eternal~