Are we fools?

I stand on the wobbly dock, eyes trained on the water attempting to memorize every detail of its movement and being in order to write about it later. I note the rippling effect the wind creates on the smooth surface, and the once bright blue color fading to black as the sun sets behind me. As I am writing this all down I can not help but feel like this is too obvious, the water would be an obvious focal point for anyone in this spot, on this dock. I start to yearn to find a lesser known beauty, something looked over yet still breathtaking. For the first time since I arrived I tear my gaze away from the water and start taking in the things I had walked right past in my laser focused state of getting to the water.

I notice the rocks lying in wait underneath the shoreline, how the water turns transparent it seems just to put these rocks on display. Each one a slightly different color and shape, yet if you squint they all become one with each other dormant under the waves like an unlikely foundation. I notice the grass, the smell and appearance of it being freshly mowed, yet sections left to grow, allowed to blow in the breeze looking softer than wool. This grass is supporting the other onlookers I see before me, holding their blankets and baskets and bodies, yet all they can seem to focus on is the same water which dominated my gaze just shortly before.

But the thing that captured me like no other, was the tree domineering at the edge of the shore just off the dock, peering over the area as if it owned everything, the water, the rocks, the grass, even the people inhabiting it. It stood alone while the other trees grouped together, from this angle it looks taller than the rest although that may just be perspective’s little mind tricks. The sun sets directly behind it, its light seeping through the cracks between branches like water running through your palms, fast and flowing while simultaneously stagnant and slow. The branches are strong and opaque at the heart of the tree but as your eyes travel outwards the branches become smaller and fewer, translucence takes control and gives permission to the light to make its journey through.

This tree holds some sort of importance that I can not put my finger on, it holds itself like it knows something we do not. I wonder why the water is held much more divinely than the tree, why the water attracts visitors and not the tree. Is this what the tree wants? Is it intentional? Are we fools to think the water is the leader? Are we fools to think the tree is? Or are we fools to even think there is a leader to begin with? Maybe there is no larger meaning, maybe it is just some rocks, grass, water, and a tree.

Are we fools?

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