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Poetry posted in this category are works of fiction. Names, places, characters, events, and incidents are created by the authors' imaginations or are used fictitiously. Any resemblances to actual persons (living or dead), organizations, companies, events, or locales are entirely coincidental.
Note: While authors are asked to place warnings on their stories for some moderated content, everyone has different thresholds, and it is your responsibility as a reader to avoid stories or stop reading if something bothers you. 

Poem Collection - MythOfHappiness - 13. Beauty and Water

Sometimes I think about beauty and water.

How one is impossible without the other

 

I think about the way the Colorado sunset

Slid into that crystal lake and how

There was no one around but me

And the silence and the wind

And the way that the beauty of it all

Struck me, and how I was sad

Because I knew that I would only feel like this

A few times in my entire life

And I knew that this moment,

This perfection,

Could never last forever

Because then it wouldn’t be perfection,

Perfection has to be rare in order to exist at all

 

I think about the way that the ice on the mountain looks

When the snow pours from the sky

Deep in the winter

And everything is white,

And the cold burns your skin wherever it can reach

And I climb, as high as I can

All the way to the top

And I look over the town and I see the people

In their cars and their coats,

Stumbling through the ankle deep powder

Fighting the cold as they do whatever it is they’re doing

And go wherever it is they’re going

And I think about how it all doesn’t matter

And I think about how it all matters more than anything

And I’m lost for a moment,

Before I realise that it’s not supposed to make sense

 

I think about how,

A long, long ways away

There is a little house

On a bit of land

In the middle of nowhere

With a muddy creek running through it

And how I can get up and go to that little house

And everyone I love will be out by that little creek

Eating too-small hamburgers and burnt hotdogs

And laughing about something, anything at all

 

Sometimes I think about beauty and water

And how I couldn’t live without either one

Copyright © 2018 MythOfHappiness; All Rights Reserved.
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Poetry posted in this category are works of fiction. Names, places, characters, events, and incidents are created by the authors' imaginations or are used fictitiously. Any resemblances to actual persons (living or dead), organizations, companies, events, or locales are entirely coincidental.
Note: While authors are asked to place warnings on their stories for some moderated content, everyone has different thresholds, and it is your responsibility as a reader to avoid stories or stop reading if something bothers you. 
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When I was first going to college, one of my teachers would intersperse various lectures among his studio classes. One that struck me, and stays with me even to this day, was on Rembrandt's self-portraits. The artist did several during his lifetime, and my teacher said to observe how the man slowly but surely lost his 'I' in the process; with each passing portrait the man became more of the perfect observer, free of himself and the baggage that might obscure what he sees through judgement.

This poem's POV reminds of that. Already, there is such a grandeur in the detachment you show here. An observer yes, but one who can absorb the feeling and translate them into 'paint.' You paint, fine artist, with words. Thanks for sharing with us again.           

Edited by AC Benus
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