The_gladiator
Avatar of Fantasy
- Joined
- Mar 1, 2007
- Posts
- 24,510
He stands beneath the rush of the waterfall the pounding of the water washing over him. It is relentless, real. Humbling even. The rhythm of the water, the feel of the rush as he splays one hand against the translucent stream is so real to him. Tethering him to the earth, to nature. Like this he felt a part of something greater not so alone. The endless spray kicked up by the falls soak his face, hiding the tears that would otherwise be visible. The saddness comes for him sometimes, and this time had come out of nowhere and seemingly ripped holes through the elf's soul. He whispered words in elvish, swallowed up by the roar of the water. Standing behind the water like this he had the illusion of being safe, such an analogy for life. Sometimes in life we put up shields and they were as easy to cut through as it was to pass through the water.
He wished he had a better way to find peace to relax, but saddly it just would not come even here. Even here the roar of the water couldn't drown out the dark thoughts, the pain. He did not want to worry anyone by coming here like this but he needed to go somewhere. He needed the dream that this place reprisented, the lost hope.
He wished he had a better way to find peace to relax, but saddly it just would not come even here. Even here the roar of the water couldn't drown out the dark thoughts, the pain. He did not want to worry anyone by coming here like this but he needed to go somewhere. He needed the dream that this place reprisented, the lost hope.