The river flows swift under me. The bridge seems to unite the two lands on my sides. Overhead the cherry blossom moves gently with the wind. The blossoms fall to the river, carried away by the current. As I put my hands on the cold wooden handlebar of the bridge, I look down at the koi fish swimming below me. Always flowing in a pattern, they seem to follow one another. The butterflies overhead fly around, free. Quiet this day is. The center of the bridge is the best place to write. The wood on the bridge has held for hundreds of years, worn down through time, but will stay for hundreds of years more. Cherry blossoms fly all around as the wind passes. Sometimes, they fall on my diary as I write my poetry. Every word written is as sincere as can be. Every stroke of my pencil is a new part of my creation. The shadows covering the lands keep this sanctuary hidden. No one has ever followed, so no one has ever seen. The sun peeks through the cherry blossom tree and keeps this place the center of life for miles around. This oasis is safety, security, and a home. These are the only sounds of true nature: the branches rustling, the wind passing by, the fish swimming, every breath of life around. Nature’s song clears the mind and the heart. Inspiration fills the air and gives me the ability to write, to read, to sing, to dance, to be free. Even the fruit here: the red apples, the juicy peaches, and the small plums are the sweetest. Occasionally I have an apple and write my heart out on paper. One could spend eternity on this bridge, forever in a secluded paradise. I would lie down at times to admire the bit of shade given by the cherry blossom tree. The pink flowers always bloom bright and fill the scene with beauty and majesty. A small one would fall next to me, so I could see the detail perfectly. It’s fragile petals survive the worst of seasons, yet survive to bloom another day. They have me think about the beauty of life, the gifts it gives. At times, I think to myself about my life. Having always been alone makes one wonder whether isolation is healthy, or will eventually drive you to insanity. There has always been insanity in the creation of wonderful things. Alone may seem safer than otherwise, but, still I wonder what it could feel to share this wonderful place, this beautiful life, with someone else. However, I feel that if I speak of this sanctuary, it could get destroyed. This beautiful secret would disappear and fall apart. Could the risk be worth it? To tell anyone, would be like destroying this place myself. Maybe the risk is not worth it. The pain of losing this, the only world I ever knew, could never be risked, not even for him. Yet, as I lie here falling into dreams, I wonder, what if it does have worth? All my dreams show both sides of the results of this secret being exposed. Half of the time, a joyous result, but for the other half, a chaotic disaster. I would not dare risk it. This place is a masterpiece by God himself. It must be protected, from everything, and from everyone.