Those nights, usually in summer, that stir a thing that's hard to describe, they are rare. Sacred is the way I'd put it. Its about an intangible. Something that simultaneously creates a euphoria ethereal, and a a longing so deep and sorrowful you know it can never be quenched.
Beauty reaches as far as the eye can see. The kind that fills the moment so that it feels like it might burst. Perfect temperature combined with the awesome display of nature grandiose is almost too much. Its hard to believe the world exists in this way. An expanse so vivid and breathtaking has to fill the void. It should be enough to feel the moment of perfect peace deep in the soul, in the bones.
But beauty so impressive can't help but make us feel all too lonely. After all, how can we compare? Our imperfections become all too large and exaggerated. We long to create something so beautiful, but alas, we will never. We become so small and helpless. There is too much and we are not enough. And how many of these scenes will we never reach? Beyond the horizon lies so many nights and displays of wonder we long so deeply to see and know we can never reach. Our thoughts thrown into the void come back to us with a sense of wonder, but also with much defeat and despair.
And companionship is a necessity for our nature, but we know it is not still and unwavering like these surroundings. It is a constant quest full of compromise, and we worry that with each that we lose some of ourselves. The still and overwhelming beauty of these serene moments made possible by such settings will be disturbed, like the perfect glassy waters of a sunset lake erupting with ripples when rocks are thrown. Hard and fast they hit, and the recovery is slow and sad.
Those nights are emotion. A word that means nothing to some. A jumble of flowery words that have no real support. But the beauty is overpowering. We are at once awed and saddened. And so we can sit on the edge of a dock, looking out at a glassy lake into a vivid sunset and wish to stay forever in the peace, love one in the beauty, and want to dive into the lake and float aimlessly knowing in melancholy how perfectly small and incapable we are.
remain burned in my mind.