A modicum of space amid the mess
of life's cruel jokes and winter's circumstance--
Reflections on a lake, though smooth as glass,
when winds rush in will twist, distort the true
depiction of the world, erase the clear
connection from the image to its mate.
No, stillness is what's needed for the eye
to gaze upon the lake and see the sky;
and solid truth will melt and disappear
when gales glaze the water, dark with fear.
~ARH 4/1/08~
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