The Restless Poet

As I settle onto the shore for my final paddle, the weather mirrors my introspective mood – chilly and breezy. The forecast warned of windy conditions, but I’ll savor this fleeting moment of serenity, my last. Cradling my coffee cup and with music at the ready, I reflect on the melodies that accompanied my walk. It’s astonishing how a single song can transport me back to a specific time, evoking not just memories but the emotions that swirled within me. The sensation is almost palpable, transcending recollection.

The water’s gentle lapping beckons, yet a melancholic loneliness hangs in the air, a sense of impermanence. Even the creatures seem to be departing, responding to the season’s shift. Nature’s cycles remind me that change is inevitable.

The shore receives me, a solitary figure, as the wind whispers secrets. I slip into the water, its chill enveloping me like a shroud. The world narrows to the water’s tender touch of waves against my skin, the sound of my paddle dipping into the silent depths, a rhythmic heartbeat. For a fleeting instant, worries dissolve, departing like the ripples of the water.

As I glide across the lake’s surface, each stroke of the paddle stirs the sediment of time, releasing the secrets from the summer, stirring the embers of an unforgettable season. 

The wind stirs, rustling reeds and sending shimmering waves across the lake. I paddle further, seeking solitude’s silence. The lake is a mirror to my soul, my heart beats in harmony with the water’s pulse.

In the stillness, reflections of my deepest self emerge. The lake keeps my secret. The lake has become a part of me, an indelible mark and I will become a part of it.