<\/p>\n
I am looking at Lake George, New York, while walking its careless, distraught contour.<\/p>\n
I see the immensity of its beauty, carried over thousands of years.<\/p>\n
A magnificent work of God bestowed with long-lasting splendor,<\/p>\n
To remind man of his banishment from heavens.<\/p>\n
<\/p>\n
A lake is God\u2019s message of how sublime he can be.<\/p>\n
An envelope of water mirroring human life.<\/p>\n
It has life\u2019s fullness, circumference, inner turmoil, and external storms.<\/p>\n
It has infinite expressibility; it has points of personality but it is its wholeness which communicates with us.<\/p>\n
A lake does not tell us what it is; to different observers it is their own projection of it.<\/p>\n
It is a body of water with purpose, but with a demeanor of purposelessness.<\/p>\n
<\/p>\n
Lake George is a masterstroke of imagination;<\/p>\n
Reminding its visitors, from generation to generation,<\/p>\n
The power and benevolence of nature over our lives.<\/p>\n
A mirror we can hold to see ourselves in it.<\/p>\n
<\/p>\n
I stand before the lake and<\/p>\n
Wonder at the nature of nature,<\/p>\n
And man\u2019s relevance in the cosmic scheme.<\/p>\n
<\/p>\n
I have roamed around the planet earth for many decades<\/p>\n
And am now near the last turns of my end.<\/p>\n
<\/p>\n
My life is only a little tale in the infinite tapestry of universe,<\/p>\n
Which I have tried to keep in check from the human vanity and ego.<\/p>\n
I look at the lake and feel an eternity grab me,<\/p>\n
My life seems to be an infinite ribbon forever uncoiling.<\/p>\n
<\/p>\n
Reflected in the lake I see the colossal cosmos aglow in inhuman splendor,<\/p>\n
Its apparent infinitude dazzles the senses out of me,<\/p>\n
Its mystery mesmerizes me to a permanent wonder.<\/p>\n
<\/p>\n
In the lake I see an arrest of the cosmic splendor,<\/p>\n
A micro-capsule of the energy and enigma of universe.<\/p>\n
<\/p>\n
Why is universe as it is, why was it made in the first place.<\/p>\n
The absurdity of these questions is apparent, as universe does not have a human mind.<\/p>\n
It exists by its design, it is aglow by its own light.<\/p>\n
It has always been there and it will always be there.<\/p>\n
<\/p>\n
For man to understand these things is a liberation from earthly shackles,<\/p>\n
A reunion with eternity, a stepping into the cosmic dance.<\/p>\n
<\/p>\n
Human life was not meant to be lived as it is generally,<\/p>\n
Man carries too much worthless baggage with him \u2013<\/p>\n
The artless designs of his scheming brain.<\/p>\n
Man stands as a caricature of his natural majesty,<\/p>\n
A wasted spark in the worldly morass.<\/p>\n
<\/p>\n
A lake is controlled mass but with infinite expressions,<\/p>\n
It is a circumscribed possession but forever echoing liberation,<\/p>\n
Its circumference aches to expand, its surface desires to dance off to evaporation,<\/p>\n
Its feet are on ground but its heart is dancing to the other drummer,<\/p>\n
It appears static but it is a dynamic state of shifting masses.<\/p>\n
A lake is a cosmic dance with a human face.<\/p>\n
<\/p>\n
A lake is ripeness at ease with itself,<\/p>\n
Grace forever held by its weight.<\/p>\n
It aspires the dance of waves but is content to remain within its shores,<\/p>\n
Freedom never squandered in rash adventures of an ocean or a river.<\/p>\n
<\/p>\n
If man could only be like a lake,<\/p>\n
Finite but soaring in its spirit,<\/p>\n
Bounded but bursting to expand,<\/p>\n
Possessed but with flexible circumference,<\/p>\n
Static in composure but dynamic in disposition,<\/p>\n
Effervescent in its longings but controlled in its demeanor.<\/p>\n
<\/p>\n
A lake is brimming with hope that tomorrow will be better,<\/p>\n
Because its guts have churned enough and its bosom has heaved enough,<\/p>\n
Its patience has stretched long,<\/p>\n
And has no theatrics to play.<\/p>\n
<\/p>\n
A lake is a human condition,<\/p>\n
Structured yet fluid,<\/p>\n
Like life a lake is just a ripple across time,<\/p>\n
Where imagination gives it context and meaning.<\/p>\n
A lake is a slice of human heart resting on god\u2019s little fingers.<\/p>\n","protected":false},"excerpt":{"rendered":"
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