A visit to Lake District

Romanticism, or the Romantic movement was fathered by William Wordsworth and Samuel Coleridge. Wordsworth, enraptured by the grandeur of Lake District, felt compelled to remodel pre-existing poetic genres to paint the beauty that resides in the simplicity of nature. The natural scenery had been more than his muse; it had been his saviour, rejuvenating him from the harrows of death, grief and life.

 𖡡Haweswater

                           

I had been told by my professor once to visit. To sit and breathe it in. “It’ll come to you,” she had said. 

It is where poets go to write. It is where they die.

I witnessed the truthfulness of her words as I stood in front of it. It felt alive, almost as if our interaction was rooted in mutual existence. I looked upon it as it had looked back.

A sense of finality resided in this interaction. There was silence. I had not necessarily conjured a speck of creativity, rather just a peaceful urge to bid farewell.

Potentially to a dream. Possibly to ignorance. Not everyone is destined for greatness, for individuality. The grey breeze carried with it acceptance.

I seldom write. I seldom mourn it. The still water was forgiving.