a cease of time

I've been completely ignorant of writing. I guess all the inspiration has been so redundantly negative I've grown tired of writing about it. I have experienced a pure joy and magnificent outlet once again though, and so I feel compelled to pour words out of my mind. Through water and nature, I have found short moments of peace and joy. Fly fishing has come back into my life, and this time with a passion that I didn't quite expect. The river speaks to me, and the trees whisper tranquil thoughts. I can smile once more, but in a way that is so pure and reviving, I almost feel guilty it's so guiltless. The female situations that have been clouding up my life are now gone, and I feel released from the weight of life's problems and complications that seem to become more and more present day by day. I am obsessed at the moment. It brings me silent satisfaction that effects me as much after as during, unlike my previous sexual escapades. I am overjoyed to have found something to calm my soul. True fly fishing is art. I want to become an artist on these rivers. I want to speak this language fluently, like cool waters flowing over stone. I want to, for at least a brief moment, mold myself to the environment. I want to blend in with the ever flowing streams. Today, I felt that closeness. I felt art. Positive art. I lost track of time, and only the echoes of the natural world remained. Time ceased. And so did my pain.