Ponder

I sat beside the pond, dark at night.
Watching moonlit ripples gather their light.
Each thought I dropped in silence there,
Sent ripples echoing to who knows where.

The fern fronds bent low in patient grace,
Like green hands, touching the pond's face;
They swayed as though they all understood
The thoughts I left under leaf and wood.

To ponder is to wander on real slow,
In deep hidden valleys, lit dimly aglow;
Not seeking answers adroit, sharp and fast,
But truths beyond what surface shadows cast.

The pond reflects the stars above,
Showing its devotion to the labor of love.
It welcomes the sky with two open hands,
Then lets meaning befall to where hope lands.

The mind, like water, must grow still,
Before any reflected shadows can distill;
What the restless spirit wants to shed
From dusty drawers of regrets and dread.

Beneath the reeds, dark shadows sleep,
Where nasty things crawl, writhe and creep;
Every one's a mystery, all clammy and cold,
Awaiting their chance, when beliefs grow old.

So let the fronds and ponds confer,
Let thoughts gel, settle, with a gentle stir;
For wisdom rarely shouts out its fame—
It glows like embers beneath the flame.

I rise before the break of dawn,
With heart heavy; thoughts forlorn;
Yet knowing the bond to which I'm fond
That to ponder, is to become the pond.

angstanxietyassonancewaterquatrain

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