A Scene from a Lake in the Fading Sunlight
Here stands a serene lake. A thin veil of mist emanates from the flat surface of the motionless water; nothing disturbs the liquid equilibrium. The water appears dark in the evening light, an effect which is amplified by the ever-so-slight shadow cast by that grey blanket of vapour. This darkness creates an apparition of inevitability, it looks to me, like such a subtly sinister visage could only form at this present moment – fate, one could say, unexpected and cruel in every regard.
The shores of the lake are clear-cut from the blackness of the water, and appear almost white, for the sand is marred by branches and other such woodland debris. And the water, too, is not a complete and total black; the glinting, dimming sunlight creates a flashy cascade of almost kaleidoscopic reds, oranges, and yellows. Colours of power, are they not? Abstract representations of an unattainable abstract goal.
The sky appears as a deep red, an almost bloody colour in the usual sunset, piercing the slowly-gathering cloud cover. There is to be rain on this night, it seems. I like the rain; the falling water always gives me a sense of rejuvenation, reassurance that everything might be okay in the end. And sometimes I believe this notion.
There is a distinct lack of sounds this evening. It’s a weird feeling, knowing that even the local fauna are silent on such a night. Do they know why I am silent? Can they ever understand? Are they capable of such a thought? They have their reasons, I suppose, and I my own. It’s admirable, though, in its own bleak way, how the totality of nature at this scene can mirror my own feelings. How sweet are you, silence? And how sweet does it get?
I am alone here, I should say. I needed this, needed a moment to myself. Story of my life, really; I’ve needed lots of moments to myself. I’ve found safety in them, in this loneliness. But can I stand it anymore?
The path up to the lake, behind me, fares no better in the fading sunlight. The shadows which envelope the path betray a sense of serenity, because the path is actually horribly overgrown, seemingly in an attempt to control the footfall of travellers. Love is control, isn’t it? I’d die if I let go.
The rain’s starting to fall by now, a perfect disruption for this perfect silence. And now I can hear animal-life clambering for shelter against the weather. I, however, do not seek refuge, but rather let the sky-borne liquid keep me company as the light grows dimmer still. Seeing the lake’s surface in complete disarray inspires a new feeling in me – not one of hope or anything of such a positive sort, but one of apathy. Life goes on, as it always does; what more can I do?
The shores of the lake are clear-cut from the blackness of the water, and appear almost white, for the sand is marred by branches and other such woodland debris. And the water, too, is not a complete and total black; the glinting, dimming sunlight creates a flashy cascade of almost kaleidoscopic reds, oranges, and yellows. Colours of power, are they not? Abstract representations of an unattainable abstract goal.
The sky appears as a deep red, an almost bloody colour in the usual sunset, piercing the slowly-gathering cloud cover. There is to be rain on this night, it seems. I like the rain; the falling water always gives me a sense of rejuvenation, reassurance that everything might be okay in the end. And sometimes I believe this notion.
There is a distinct lack of sounds this evening. It’s a weird feeling, knowing that even the local fauna are silent on such a night. Do they know why I am silent? Can they ever understand? Are they capable of such a thought? They have their reasons, I suppose, and I my own. It’s admirable, though, in its own bleak way, how the totality of nature at this scene can mirror my own feelings. How sweet are you, silence? And how sweet does it get?
I am alone here, I should say. I needed this, needed a moment to myself. Story of my life, really; I’ve needed lots of moments to myself. I’ve found safety in them, in this loneliness. But can I stand it anymore?
The path up to the lake, behind me, fares no better in the fading sunlight. The shadows which envelope the path betray a sense of serenity, because the path is actually horribly overgrown, seemingly in an attempt to control the footfall of travellers. Love is control, isn’t it? I’d die if I let go.
The rain’s starting to fall by now, a perfect disruption for this perfect silence. And now I can hear animal-life clambering for shelter against the weather. I, however, do not seek refuge, but rather let the sky-borne liquid keep me company as the light grows dimmer still. Seeing the lake’s surface in complete disarray inspires a new feeling in me – not one of hope or anything of such a positive sort, but one of apathy. Life goes on, as it always does; what more can I do?
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