To the River
Chapter 1
The vast, panoptic view of the river resembled a nirvana where nature flourished and humans ceased to exist. While the diminishment of mankind was a lowly pipe dream, the cacoethes shared between the man and river was authentic. His fondness of the river was exhibited day in and day out through hours of admiration and adoration, making sure not to overlook a single cattail or water lily. Her splashes, ripples, and tides soothed his thoughts, while her soft grasses cushioned his tiresome body. They both offered a sort of exchange of benevolence, knowing that, without the other, they would be confounded by their misinterpreted roles in life.
Day after day he would return to the river’s bosom to lie down and admire the cosmos; the never-ending cycle of life that continued to amaze and invigorate him. He’d display small acts of affection by gathering her autumn leaves, rebuilding her decrepit dams, and feeding her paddling of ducks. His bits of charity were often the overture to her serene and intrinsic sunset. The two would share an embrace, the man always promising her that they’d spend eternity together. Their inevitable detachment promptly arrived each and every evening, prepared to dissever them until the next day.
Although their engagement halted when the sun descended, the man often admired her ripples and waves in the moonlight from his bedroom window. The reflection of the moon danced and twirled on every last drop of water, creating a different interpretation each night. His stark romanticism and connection with nature would slowly morph into a creature of loss and bewilderment. Her trees and currents would shift and alter until his eyes deceived him. In an act of obfuscation, he would draw the curtains and saunter to the king-sized bed that continued to house one man each and every night.
Day after day he would return to the river’s bosom to lie down and admire the cosmos; the never-ending cycle of life that continued to amaze and invigorate him. He’d display small acts of affection by gathering her autumn leaves, rebuilding her decrepit dams, and feeding her paddling of ducks. His bits of charity were often the overture to her serene and intrinsic sunset. The two would share an embrace, the man always promising her that they’d spend eternity together. Their inevitable detachment promptly arrived each and every evening, prepared to dissever them until the next day.
Although their engagement halted when the sun descended, the man often admired her ripples and waves in the moonlight from his bedroom window. The reflection of the moon danced and twirled on every last drop of water, creating a different interpretation each night. His stark romanticism and connection with nature would slowly morph into a creature of loss and bewilderment. Her trees and currents would shift and alter until his eyes deceived him. In an act of obfuscation, he would draw the curtains and saunter to the king-sized bed that continued to house one man each and every night.