The lake is my sword
Cutting through life’s flagrant nonsense
Slashing its tawny leathered wrists
Spilling red sunset all about
At my side all night long
She beckons, begs, congeals a new reality–
One where purpose finally follows breath
And grandiose dreams fall aslumber–
Mere dormant volcanoes
Quieted by the watchful monks
On the flowered hillside
We must escape ourselves to find ourselves
So why not follow the lake’s hypnotic waves
Making us forget long enough to remember
the fleeting sunset, desperate scarlet flashes on the water
Enjoy coming back with reading your latest
Yessir! A new one! And a fine one at that! Thanks, Don!