The leaves rustle their monsoon hymns in reverence of the breeze, the birds chirp away their musical melodies. The trees, gentle giants that they are, distill the overwhelming embrace of the mighty sun into fuzzy kisses that warm the soul. A primitive part of the soul, nourished only by Mother Nature, rejoices at every moment spent in her lap. Ah, how brazenly my fellow intruders defile her! We have yet to learn from the nobler beasts, the craft of being witnessed only by prints. The icy air pierces my gasping lungs with the very breath of life, bestowing itself upon one far more blemished. How blue the sky is! Pouring color into the word azure, it is necklaced by the lofty snow-capped peaks, and soared only by the bravest of the fierce eagles. "How high does the path go?" The shepherd humbly smiles at my naivety.
The treacherous trails laden with melting snows jolt me awake at every misstep I tread, anything less than utmost mindfulness is a slight they will make me pay dearly for. I feel my heart pounding through all my feeble layers of clothing. If I have felt alive, it is but here. Time itself is frozen at this heavenly lake, an eternity passes through the few moments I have here; yet I feel out of time to take it all in. A villager tells me the lake is so pure, the birds will pick up even the lone leaf that dares stumble into it. A local legend fables a Goddess resides in the lake. It must be true, for if I have felt divine it is but here.