The Beautiful Things

I was noticing the beautiful things. Everything seemed to fall into place perfectly. There was balace, there was peace. And I believe I felt complete again - the storm had gone down to the sea, the fire that burned in my heart had died down.
Suddenly I was understanding the whys and the hows; I was looking at the world in ways I had never thought about.
They were always here, around me. These beautiful things, they never left me. But I didn't seem to notice them before.
I saw what was there, the way they belonged to their surroundings, though I also saw what wasn't. What was yet to be, the possibilities, the ideas, the future, the happiness. I saw us.
Where I seized to exist and I got lost, immersed in this ocean of beauty. The beauty of the world.
I saw them for what they were, simple, fragile, graceful and so incredibly familiar. They were joyous in their silent lives. They refused to give away their secrets, but they still told me plenty. They spoke of another life I had, a very old one - and I recognized the loveliness of all of it, I embraced it in me.
The open window let the light come in, it allowed life to swallow the darkness. Here, there's no room for chaos, or destruction or misery. It contains what is especial, and rare, and precious. And beautiful. Here there's room to contemplate how the ceiling is upside down and how that doesn't matter at all. Maybe the ceiling is where I'll walk from now on. Maybe all these shapes and forms, the edges and the shadows are just that. But they also contain something else. Something pure, something real. They enabled me to think like I had nothing to lose; they gave me clarity to see that maybe some things don't matter at all, that the way the world moves doesn't concern me. It shouldn't. It allowed me to forgive, perhaps even me. It allowed me to breathe.
Everything was very much alive, magical like. I closed my eyes, filled with the quietness, the utter peace that silenced the pain and despair. I closed my eyes and saw them all. The beautiful things.

What the water gave me

«One of these mornings (...) you'll spread your wings and you'll take to the sky»

You win over noise. You accomplish silence.
This precious, tragic, fatidic stilness you only get underwater. Utterly silent.
I was floating, drifting but not away. I stayed right there, in the moment. I looked at the far distant sky. It was so insanely blue, it hurt my eyes. It was so far away, so immense I was afraid it would fall over me and suddenly I felt small. I felt the nothingness of me, compared to the wide sky. I couldn't bear to be in the water any longer. I had to get out. I tried realizing the colours in the clouds, but it was hopeless.
When I'm inside, there's merely the sound of my breathing. And water. Water surrounding me, clear water all over. I see the beginning and it's end.
I am floating, like time doesn't move, like the earth doesn't spin. And all I see is the beauty of elegant trees gently dancing to the wind's waltz against the light blue pane. I see the trees, but what are they telling me? They move, they want to break free...It's summertime and they are alive. They speak to me - they are speaking of things I ever dreamed about, things that are so known, yet so unexpected. I'm feeling such quietness, such purity. There's no space for hurt here, for illusion. Reality, as bright as I ever saw it, is upon me and I embrace it with my arms open.
And what did the water really give me? Serenity I believe. It gave me a break from the atrocities of the world when I needed it, it allowed me to forget, it allowed me to know more. I floated free, the trees spoke to me, the birds flew over me, telling tales long forgotten. It saved me, when I didn't even know I needed rescue. It was a lighthouse to guide me where I don't recall. I don't know the way, I don't know what it was, but I know how it felt. It was home, somehow.