Sunday, November 28, 2010

Where Angels Fear to Tread

I don't even think I can explain this feeling. It was always more than simply looking at a picture and liking it, but more of a looking at a picture and feeling your breath get sucked out of you, followed by a feeling in your chest that this, this place, wherever it may be, was where you belonged, where you literally longed to be.

I dream of the place with water so clean and clear that it reflects the azure sky perfectly, adopting a luminescence that only these places can. I dream of gliding along that water, safe among the towering cliffs, with moss and vines and small bushes clinging to their faces. Even still, the boat does not rock, so calm and glass-like is the water, undisturbed but for the ripples caused by the ever slightly moving boat. If the air is hot, then the water is cool, a haven amongst the tropical weather patterns, wiping clean the sweat and the dirt, and bringing not only cleanliness, but also a sense of the spiritual. Here there is that connection to the higher realm, for here is where it is clean and tranquil and secluded, a secret place away from the rest of mankind. You must be able to touch that other realm whilst enveloped by the natural, for it is nigh impossible in the concrete jungles of skyscrapers and cars and millions of strangers, permanently stained by the dirt.

In your ears gently roars the sound of gushing water, dropping off some high precipice and crashing down below upon the surface of the turquoise pool. This sound, the only one, is the breath of life and it infuses you with calm and the ability to see beauty, so that you notice the exact colours of the water, the textures of the cliffs, the patterns of the growing plants. You realise that here is life, and that here, everything is much more alive than there in the sprawling urban landscape from whence you originated; even the cliffs, solid rock as they are, seem to hum with the song of the earth, while the waterfall and the trees seem to accompany it, each with their unique sounds.

My heart aches for it, as though to be reunited with a lost part of myself, from many eons ago. To drink its beauty, even once in this short lifetime would be akin to being caressed by the gentlest and most caring of lovers, who with one certain stroke could kindle a blazing passion within. It would truly be returning home. Here, in this place, even the angels fear to tread, for they have nothing more to offer it; it outstrips them in its radiant beauty, its heartaching wonder, and its secluded spirituality.

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