Thoughts By the Lake
Thoughts by the lake
At peace with peace if just for a moment.
A lone pigeon calls. The splash of a carp.
A call from nature by a plaintive duck
Sitting contentedly at my feet.
Across the lake a couple sit,
Intruding on my silence with muted talk
That drifts across the flickering surface
Of the lake.
They come uninvited but perhaps they too
Seek peace together if that exists.
Then after a while they leave
Followed by a procession of ducks
So leaving me in peace again.
Two black shapes appear in the lake
But a short distance away,
Translucent faces gazing upwards,
Like death,
As it waits in the shadows;
Ever present, then gliding slowly
Beneath the surface,
As it does in the real world.
The willows shiver in a breeze that exists,
But seemingly doesn't,
As there is no apparent movement in the air
To caress the face of silence.
The warning call of a moor-hen, far to my left,
Like a siren, echoing in the stillness.
An awareness of things one may not notice
On a different day.
All these small sounds in the silence,
So silence must not, therefore, exist.
Not even when one closes one's mind.
The quieter it seems, in sight or sound,
The more I hear – so,
Where do I go for solitude,
If only for a moment in time?
The quieter the real world,
The greater the awareness,
And so,
What was once silence
Is no more.
Copyright © Tim Riding | Year Posted 2020
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