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Reflection on a Lake
by: Haresh Daswani

Ever read with your eyes closed? Hypnotized by the words flowery by an author you might have never met, yet writes as if you do think alike? Gather your thoughts upon a lake and look below. Through your transparent reflection exists a seascape. But beyond this lies multiple ideas to what you feel. The author’s thoughts reflect upon what you want it to relate to you.
As the ripples of a slight activity of breeze brings forth your reflection distorted. The disruption changes what you see, and what is looking back at you. At this moment the strangest sensation of awe and disbelief lies the slight possibility that that might be you all along, looking at yourself in a rippled lake, looking back at yourself in its disturbed state.
In this distorted state lies a distorted reality. Our reflection is no longer true, but a perverted image of an external force. And while this outer reflection may distort, chances are our deeper state, the seascape, might shift as well. As fishes scramble in a confused manner over a change in outer state, activity brews in a momentary chaos below, leaving the slight amusement of wind to cause so much below, just by slightly distorting reality.
Had the lives within the seascape been experienced by the whiles of the wind would it continue with its own existence. Had it been realized that reality is not seen through matter that is easily influenced by change, but through a matter rigid of external forces. Reflections upon a lake is but a mere amusement, a dynamic change of reality of which does not show the same distortion twice.
To which it would make a strange coincidence though, through its extreme difficulty, would it take to keep any dynamic external forces away from dear lake. To which the seascape keeps silent, just as the wind above. Keeping itself curious and patient to purge the ripples away. To which mere instant, a true reflection did show, in its utmost beauty, staring back at the viewer, in a form patiently longed for, himself.

The Fine Line Between Genius and Insanity
During the nocturnal hours of earthlings, with people either in moonlit vocations, alcohol cravings, or travelling through dreams, thoughts from an insomniac (like me) would be inputted in computers like these (quite an amusing little contraption) to try to twist little humanoid minds...










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