Ilusion

Discussion in 'Poetry Forum' started by MuheCa, Jan 5, 2019.

  1. MuheCa

    MuheCa Member

    Ilusion



    The oar locks have just been seen to and are all but silent.

    The oars in the water make some noise but in my practiced hands there is no splashing to speak of.

    There is only the pull against the water that both resists the blades and rushes around them.

    I know without seeing that little whirlpools form where the oar blades pass. The oars drip into and over them having left the water on their way to the next dip and pull.


    I am keeping a slow pace. I don't want the bow to gurgle as it cuts the water and I want as little wake as possible so as not to disturb the mirror surface of the lake. The air is still, as is the water.

    Alone in the boat on the lake, I stealthily advance into the moonless cloudless night.


    My night vision takes twenty minutes to adjust to the darkness and I will be in the center of the lake in thirty.


    The far flung planets and the impossibly distant stars hang above the water and as if that isn't majestic enough, they shine across the lake as well.


    The distortion of the reflection in my modest wake yet breaks the illusion that I am suspended in space myself, utterly surrounded by the star filled darkness.


    The only other feature in this strange and wonderful universe is the distant forest tree line and it's dark reflection on the water.


    Soon I will come to a stop and the evidence of my passing will dissipate. Then I know I will see the full glory of the night on the lake.


    I will be loathe to return.


    How much is my life like this brief journey?
    I make little noise, I move slowly and purposefully,

    I expect the evidence of my passage to dissipate almost entirely.

    I gaze upon the starry night above and below and I know that I am part of it. I know that I fit into the vastness of it and that not everything I see out here on the dark lake is an illusion.
     
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