Pond

There is a pond in a high-mountain valley Known only to those who create it by will. Its water is green, deep, melted-snow clear And viewing its depths is a singular skill. The peace and tranquility one sees below Cleanse the mind clear of the chaos above. Blessed is the one who has come to know That such a pond brings the peace of a dove. Mortality requires a refuge like a pond— A place where one can reassemble senses, Where self and the world can forge a bond. And where one can build defensive fences.