The Pond

February 8, 2010
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Sometimes I wish thoughts would disappear like a reflection in a pond,
Dark at night when the moon seems to leave an eerie glow,
The lights dance in the reflection and leave a mysterious hue,
That hinges onto each breath and each pair of love locked hands,
Fleeting in the presence of even the slightest breeze,
Their shapes coalescing into images that are in accordance with the stars:
A withered old man working away at a grandfather clock,
Realizing that switching the time on its musing face,
Will not actually by him any more time,
His wrinkles and callused feet showing his abundant work,
But his eyes still showing youth and hope,
Hope that someday his tinkering and incessant struggle will lead to
The impossible.
Or a small girl on a foggy beach,
The air a veil that blocks her vision and provides the
Illusion that the waves are monstrous monsters coming to envelop her fragile silhouette.
She sees a beautiful, conical shell glistening in the tide pool and dives her hand down,
Desperate to hold it and maybe pawn off some of its beauty,
But just before her hand wraps around its slender body,
It disappears into the tides of the ocean.
These are only a couple of the many memories I see in the pond.
As I sit there, my mind is wiped of everything,
Like chalk on a chalkboard buffed by an eraser,
Leaving a muddled mess of dust and faint words,
My mind groping for some form of rescue, respite,
Trying to find some words of wisdom in these images,
As a child may search blindly for a favorite stuffed animal in a dark closet,
Their hands waving blindly,
Almost got it…almost. Lost.
I am desperate for some sort of connection,
Despite my better intuition, I want to become part of this other-worldly
Mixture of emotions,
I move my head towards the pond,
And enter the chrism-like concoction,
The sheer viscosity of the liquid resisting my entrance,
I break through.
Little orbs go flying in all directions,
Pastel in color and metaphysical in appearance,
The silence is almost piercing,
I am both confused and exhilarated,
As I turn my head I see two of the orbs collide in front of my face.
Fluorescent, incandescent, phosphorescent,
Coalescing in swirls of neon colors,
A mere five seconds of pure happiness,
My breath is pushed down my throat,
And I move up towards the surface,
Gasping for air,
Wishing this colorful liquid could be air,
Because I want to stay here forever.
I break the surface.
To this day I am searching for the renewal of that feeling.

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