Across waters silent, there, reflecting, originally uploaded by Thorsten Becker.

Across waters silent, there, reflecting in a mirror smooth and silver my spirit sits amongst marble columns and wonders why my soul sits on the other side, like a cast off hide, like a husk. Why do we sometimes flee from ourselves, that fleshly temple which should be hallowed yet it’s often encased, swallowed by the darkest clouds. It wonders why it’s home is not always filled with happy thoughts, bright and clear, that it’s halls are often haunted by distraught. And there, in those most inner chambers where heart’s throne resides many battles have been fought, many won, plenty lost, sometimes at aching, tearful cost. And at times the foe we fight the fieriest turns out to be our own reflection made manifest in second thoughts. And yet at other times shadows jump us from below the fading light of hope. We do not know what the next day may bring, uncertainty is our compass, doubt points the way. Yet, we do know that each day the sun will rise as surely as it set the day before. And what really would eternal sunshine be if not a scorching upon the earth? A burned land in bright light that has never experienced the relieve of cooling shadows and nurturing rains. Don’t we then, after careful consideration, not need the melancholy as much as we need the laughter? Or the shadows to rest, respite from daylong toiling? Despite the fact that we cannot command the sun, cannot call it forth when we want to and hush it when we need to, cannot make time to bend to our will we can appreciate that which is given and prepare for that which may not be received. And upon that conclusion my spirit returned, over waters silent, from over there, as the rain drops began to fall, quenching the thirst of a dried out land, turning mirror smooth and silver into a canvas of painted motion and gentle sounds.

© Thorsten Becker