As I stand on the shore...

As I stand on shore of this quiet and deep river, I cannot help but think that the flow of river can be interpreted as a metaphor of our introspection and our hopes to find the answers that we seek during the span of our short lives. The river itself is time. The shore is the present. To my left �" I can see the past fading away just around the corner of the river. I can also see fading silhouettes of people’s faces that I once met and who, potentially influenced the flow of my river in their own way. And when I turn right- I can only see so much… the hills further away obstruct the view and I am only left to  guess whether I waterfall or a beautiful lake lies ahead. Yet again, I can see a flock of blank silhouettes fading in and out, but this time �" Their faces are not visible. They are the shadowy figures of people whom I might or might not encounter in the future.

On the side of the other shore, there is an old man fishing. He isn’t looking to the left or to the right… He only looks down into the ever-moving river as if hoping to find something there. Something that was lost long ago and so he sits there. In a way, our souls are very much like this old man. Though we cannot stay the same all the time because change is constant, ours souls have a unique ability to linger in one place in the flow of time. And so, we lament past or dread the future…

The reflections of houses, hills, people that I see in the water are like dreams and hopes we each carry within us, but just as images in water differ from the ones they are reflecting, so does the reality from the one we shape in our minds.

I turn again to the left, and in the very corner I can see a church. It is not entirely visible but I can see its little red roof panels and huge bronze almost chocolate-like domes. I cannot hear the bell nor can I see the stained glass but I am sure that it is standing there. Though I am not religious, the church reminds me of childhood. It was colourful, it was joyous and it definitely was …. But as the river flows and turns, the church is farther and farther away.

When standing on the shore, so close to the river is I cannot see what is behind me. It’s the present. It’s cold and unwelcoming, so I have my back turned to it. I look to the other side of the river and see people going about their lives, experiencing, sharing moments and forging hopes for their future. Not much of them come close to the river, they prefer to spend their days basking in the sunlight on the shore as they have grown so accustomed to it. Even if I can’t see it I know that many still come to take a glimpse into the river from time to time, just like the old fisherman. Though we all share the ability to look, what others see in the watery currents I do not know. Reality is a subjective matter. It is bound by our individual experiences and understanding of the world. And so to paraphrase Masashi Kishimoto’s words �" The reality of one person, is just an illusion to the other. And we all live in the dream of our own forging that we so arbitrarily call reality.

The river flows inside all of us, it is a symbol of our inner searching and our grasp on time. All the rivers are different, but they are the same in one respect- each flow only in one direction. And so, when the present reality becomes too harsh and we find ourselves longing for something, we come by the river to seek comfort in the images of the past or to compare the difference between the reflections in the water and the view we have before us. Just as the river cannot stop, I too, must move on. As the sun sets and the new day begins, surely I will return here… But it will not be the same, just as I will change so will the river and its shores , so will time and so �" my reality.

Author's Note

This is my first ever work that I did on my own accord. I welcome judgement. But please, try to make criticism constructive. Thank you

Reviews

[Cy!]

I like this very much.

Some criticism I would give is that when you are moving to a different subject in your story, press "Enter" and make another paragraph. Spacing out your story can make a big difference in impact.

Example: Eric wondered around the forest. He didn't know where he was. Was he searching for something? Was he lost? He did not know.

Eric thought of memories of warmth as he roamed the forest. He thought of winters and campfires. He thought of love and comfort.

Perhaps, He thought. These memories mean something?

Something in him laughed and said "Foolish."

Right, Eric agreed thoughtfully. These memories can not mean anything at all.

With that, Eric continued to wander through the forest. His mind bitter, and his heart lost.

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Anyway hoped this helped. Keep up the good work!