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As I gaze out upon the soft, blue water,
Waves gently
kiss its shores of rock and sand,
I often ponder what this wondrous lake was
before the touch of man,
Before its mountains were the craggy rocks with
clutching fingers reaching heavenward.
Deep green, almost black forests stand forever waiting, ever
waiting.
Trunks mottled with mosses, rents torn by animal,
nature,
Meadows appear often as oasis in deserts.
Few in number but
ablaze with color that tear the eyes amongst rich, green grasses.
Shies above a bright azure blue, clouds drift
aimlessly,
Reflected in the smooth, watery surface below,
Fish large,
plentiful straining upward to taste Nature's palate of richness,
Calm,
serene, quiet, a glorious playground of the Creator Himself.
Woodland animals cautiously edge forth to drink
deeply,
Cool, quenching fluid that's the beginning of all life,
Ever
mindful and wary are they of dangers hidden,
Predators skulk slowly,
silently, hoping to appease hungers deep within souls.
Violence, the way of Nature, storms silently creep up to
pounce upon the Lake.
Winds howling, bending trees, cause them to creak,
groan, break.
Mighty winds churn water to a frothy green
monster,
Mercilessly pounding, swelling to swallow the shore to escape its
mortal boundaries.
Shore sands sucked deeper, always moving deeper
Yet waves
make more, tumble rock upon rock.
Waves blown higher, crests white with
anger, rage, pulling plants, trees, animals unto itself.
Nature's full fury
unleashed in wild abandon, tearing, ripping, destroying, recreating.
As quickly as it comes, its fury spent
Clouds parting sun
warming all within its bounds.
This is the way of all things with a
beginning, an end.
The Lake has survived for eons, it will be here
Long
after man has destroyed his environment, long after man is but a distant
memory.
The forest will again be thick, lush green, almost
black,
Woodland animals will again cautiously drink their fill and
play,
Predators will again stalk, satisfying hunger deep within,
Nature
will again rule earth with love she alone possesses.
Then, only then, will
it once again become the Creator's playground.
