Melting Ice

An alternate route, a change of scenery.

Beautiful weather graced the day, enhancing the deep and beautiful blue hues of the lake. Stealing time from my insane schedule, I sat on the cool shore to watch the dark shadows dance over the thin layers of ice as they brushed against the shore. The ice was broken into shards, pressed together like scales on a beast, calmly clamoring for the shore as they rhythmically danced on the surface of the waves. Their gentle brush against each other created a peaceful, idle sound, forming some simple symphony as the gentle breeze brushed against my face.

The murmur of whispering ice is a beautiful sound, barely noticeable until one sits aside to listen. Peals of laughter and clips of conversation added their elegance to the symphony, rising from the occasional passerby on the path above.

While walking back home, some secret pushed at the corners of my mouth, leaving trace of some mysterious and bubbling happiness.

Contentment is a beautiful thing.

Stillness at Dusk

The rose tipped waves danced away into the horizon, leaving me to bid adieu to the day as the pearly tips of sunlight shifted quietly into a steely blue. Lost in a silent reverie, I suddenly found myself standing alone on the blackened horizon; it was in this solitary state that I was consumed by a deep and empty loneliness, all golden hues cast far from my sight.

Sometimes the night is the most difficult to endure, for the whisper of daylight is so near you can nearly feel the warmth of the sun's golden rays: yet in the moment you truly begin to believe the warmth is real, reality mercilessly whips you back to the bitter, chilly night you are so desperately longing to leave.

Time whips us round as rag dolls, delaying the coming of that for which we so desperately seek. And yet even in the darkest of nights, we may be surprised at what quiet dream may unexpectedly pierce our fears and gently lead us on; dreams that fill my heart with a strange mixture of hope for the future and a bittersweet longing for that which has passed.

I lie in wait for that blanket of love which my heart so desperately misses.