The Skys Mirror

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Status: Finished  |  Genre: Literary Fiction  |  House: Booksie Classic
A short description of natures beauty.

Submitted: May 23, 2011

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Submitted: May 23, 2011

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The world seems to come to an standstill. All of the worries of everyday life, or of the stress and the pressure - it just fades away into the endless black of the night sky. The gently waters lap at the concrete, the soft stillness of the night reflecting in the surface. Out here, everything is carefree. Time only slowly ticks by, yet it is still too fast, as only an eternity in this place could truly be enough time to appreciate it. The tree line sits off in the distance, merely a black streak, the only separation between the night sky and its cool, watery mirror. The moon rests overhead, slowly passing across the stretch of night, taking its time, just wandering. A cool breeze dances through my hair and fills my nostrils with the smooth aroma of the night. Walking from one end of the dam to the other, the view never changes, standing firm in times all too often stressed for the occasional passerby, never realizing the beauty, just a stones throw away.

On one side of the streaked ground below, rest the lake, its gentle waters of obsidian matching the skies every move, though rippling to and fro. No lights, save for the heavens above illuminate this place, the trees guarding this gem from the pollutive incandescence of the city. The trees sway with each rolling pass of wind, doing their dance with the stars away, a their twinkle seemingly so far as they rest, an outside observer. The cool serenity is unmatched.

And on the other side of the dam, a stretch of downhill covered in lush green grass, matching the trees rhythm, every twist and whirl. Beyond that, the hard asphalt, a scar in the landscape, yet somehow still maintaining an innocence in this scenic night. No cars ride its surface. No headlight wash over the black stretch, only the gentle glow of the nights skylight. And past the resting abomination, an endless wall of pine, forbidding the trespass.

It is but a small slice of impossible perfection.


© Copyright 2020 Nehz. All rights reserved.

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