Friday, November 2, 2012

The Water Lane

Olympic Park, Munich, Germany 

We are so close now.

Many a lover has rowed his dear down this lane.  Many a tired old soul has cooled his feet in this water.  Many a huntsman has satisfied his thirst from this spring.

It is a sad thing that my journey down this lane must be my last.  The blue sky is so azure.  The trees are so brown and green.  They have such life within them and without them.  They stand solemnly at attention to watch their princess pass by one last time.  They hail me as I ride silently by, my chin high.  The water is perfectly still, save around our boat.  It is the great, long mirror, stretching away to the future.

My face is set.  I know to where I go.  I know from where I leave.  I know that everything I hold dear is scattered all around me, like a child's toys on the floor, just out of reach.  I am an invalid – I cannot catch any of my toys in my hand.

My escort is around me, attentive and waiting.  They wait for my command.  They are tuned in to my every movement, almost to my very thoughts.  They love me as their treasure to protect, their charge to care.  They handle me with the gentleness required for a delicate glass trinket, rare and invaluable.  Do they not see that another will come?  I am not the last.  I am not the first.  They have cared for others besides myself; yet am I a jewel among stones, needing protection from thieves.

This I feel, that I will never return to this place.  It is here, and it is gone.  No, I have gone.  It is behind me.  I am gone.  It continues on, while I am gone.  It will not cease, but I have gone.

It is the pathway to another journey, beyond the hedge and undergrowth.  We near the end.  We are so close now, but this place will remain forever in my memory.


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