surrendering shadows.

spent some time this evening with my dear bridgeport lake. we are quite good friends, you know, though i confess the trivialities and scenery always seem new and breathtakingly charming. i tend to carry a mental album of picturesque snapshots when i leave, much like a perpetual souvenir.

goosey goosey gander waddled away as we crossed paths (he muttering to his practical wife and i almost begging his pardon for upsetting an evening stroll). six seconds of barbecued burgers scented the northern pier, and were it not for my mother's politeness, i believe i would've joined the dinner party. but around the next bend, the yellow roses--oh those handsome yellow roses--were enough of a sightly delight to satisfy even my appetite for dinner.

anyway, i watched--from my most favored plank on the bridge beside the regal lighthouse--as the pink sun wished its goodbyes, and blushing sky turned to lavender, which melted quickly into a heather blue.

there are many ways through which we learn. and for me, sometimes that takes place at this serene lake, my escape. i realized, after a time, that a creme-colored crescent was following me in my attempt to leave, and i found my eyes searching for the watery shadow of the great moon, rather than he himself. too often, this is how i live--peeling my eyes for a reflection, rather than the original. and oh how i need forgiveness for this! i dared not turn to the other side of the bridge, for fear that the water would show my failures and pull me down into its depressions.

i've never really been enamored, as have others, by the weeping willow, but tonight as i passed by, her long arms drooped over...and gazing up through the leaves, i felt very small. and that thought continued with the rest of the walk home. a lamppost, guiding the way for passersby in the night, seemed awfully tall, and i almost forgot that i was not in a dream. how do i accomplish those things which i seek to do, when i'm so small? and yet, i already think of myself as more grand than i really am. things must change, but they will take forceful engagement against the traitor, the spreader of lies.

upon reaching the door, i couldn't bring my hand to unlock and enter, so i contented myself with sitting on the porch, staring at the moon, mostly hidden by now. [i would've stayed out there all night if i could, but reason reminded me otherwise]. as much as i squinted or opened wide, i could not see him clearly. perhaps it was due to the tears that had welled up, but even after forcefully trying to rid them away, that moon just wouldn't stand still.

sometimes you have to make a choice, and though the right path may not be decidedly lined, it is still the right path. and each day, you have to make the choice again, tiring as it is.

so i choose, even tonight, to say no, to walk away, and instead take the dirt road with thistles and thorns, that points forward and straight. the road that will lead to dreams even greater than my imagination can fathom. the road that has as its guide, the real moon, not a mere shadow.

H