Contemplation and Canoes

Pushing my paddle against the ridge, I lean forward until my vessel leaves the land. My craft is floating, steered toward the stillness of the early morn. As I cut right, the sun wakes, and with its rays rise hazy clouds. The white mist trickling in captures colors, leaving streaks of orange and yellows across my view.

A breeze blows by. The wind catches against my skin as it passes, tugging at my clothing and hair until it’s free. Then it races on, to dodge through mazes of leaves and branches.

Morning is brightening now, the sun lifting higher and spreading further into the shadows. Specks of starlight twinkle ahead, trapped by the day and resting lightly on the silent plane of silver. I break the glass with my motion, scattering shards as my paddle propels me onward. Even gliding smoothly, I can’t help but rustle the image of this mirror. The folds ripple out and startle the tiny stars, which shiver and sparkle in the wake. A slap rings out across the way, as something tries to break free from beneath the glass. In a moment, everything is quiet again. The mirror evens itself out and all is pristine once more.

I pause when I see land before me, the shore of a floating island visible in the distance. Like a disk bulging on both sides, the ground of this island rises roundly to meet the line of trees reaching for the sky. At a similar angle, the dirt sinks toward the trunks which support the upside-down branches below. What is above is perfectly mimicked in what lies underneath, so that this earth-bound Laputa finds its balance in its matching sides.

The glass around the island ripples; the ground must be pressing forward. I note the mirror sits perfectly centered, cutting horizontally across this ship of land. The island hangs beneath the glass as much as it rises above; half the trees set in the air while the rest are trapped in the deep, in the darkness around. This piece of earth stretches in all directions, seeking out all at once the secrets of both the heights and depths. As it travels onward, what can be hidden from its net? The mirror is unmasked for these trees and rocks, for Laputa digs deep beneath the reflected image. The island travels through both light and dark.  I, on the other hand, merely drift along the surface, slipping by unnoticed.