So a few days ago I was on holiday and whilst sitting on a rock and avoiding kangaroo poop, I wrote a poem. Soon thoughts of mosquitos and the lovely sport of fishing were lost to sounds of birds and fascinating ripples of water. The moment was very movie worthy and in truth the thought did cross my mind. Picture staring into the distance, appearing photogenic with the whistling wind somehow romantically and unrealistically rustling your hair. Cast your eyes below.
Though it does slightly pain me to admit it, the scenery and setting of the lake (where the poem was penned) surpasses even the likes of Jack Dawson! Yet again, cast your eyes below.
And here is the poem.
Reflections and Sight
– Laetitia N
Nature in abundance, their own little world.
A world the same but different.
The lines are blurred in this contrary world.
Forever moving beneath glass.
Where is one most free, most home?
Which dimension in this haven of peace?
For above is the wind pushing forward
And below is the current pulling back.
It is in the eye where one is most free,
The reflecting that hints at reality.
Birds can fly in and out.
They can disappear off the surface then come back.
The wind rustles them, the ripples beckon them.
And the reflection is simply there.
It allows their entrance and their exit.
It soaks their varying calls.
The reflection blurs reality into bliss.
It blurs the truth into what we want it to be.
But it will not push us with the current,
The birds will not whistle the wind’s song.
If you gaze at the photograph again, the image will be different. It will be a reflection of what it was. What it depicts is now blurred with another dimension, another reflection.