Wind & Water
2004-06-14 - 11:17 p.m.

The moonlight reflects off the stone-still river, illuminating two lovers in a lover’s tryst. They are entwined and oblivious, painfully visible, but unashamed, separate, but inseparable.

I turn back to the river, trying with all my might to see another pair of lovers bobbing across the watery expanse, the water dissolving their individual wants and needs until they are one being, one who neither wants nor needs anything besides this great whole that it has become. I can see only ripples caused by the lonely wind, which can caress but never hold the things it loves, if it loves at all.

The lovers down the way are silent, except for the rustling of the grass beneath their bodies. The river is still, except for the gentle touch of its unseen love.

I am silent, like the wind, and the world is silent with me.