For Toru

A quiet lake exists before me

The waters as still as still can be

The blue, blue sky is nothing but a canopy to its understated turquoise beauty.

 

I throw a pebble across the water

Three loci of concentric circles appear

As if disillusioned by the sudden agitation

Seeking outwardly the disruptor

Only to go back to sleep.

 

Across the borders of this lake

There are trees, so many.

Dauntingly green, almost as still

Their silence as if preserving some enticing secret

 

Across the lake, my voice rings out

Where am I?

Who am I?

There is no response, no sudden revelation or epiphany.

There is nothing but the promise of an answer

Reverberating with my echoes across the lake

And into the woods.

 

Image: Misty Lake by Olga Yakubouskaya

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