The Lake

Be alone
sometimes
If you are lucky,
it might come to you,
on a falling leaf,
or from that distant solitary tree
in an empty field

It's quite wild,
untamed Its beauty
escapes the mind

There's no way
to approach it, or to hold it,
but sometimes
if you will stand by the lake,
watching a flower or a tree,
and if you're silent
with a silence in its intensity,
then
perhaps
it will come to you
as the texture and beauty
of the slow current,
the reflections,
and the deep quietness
of the water


*a found poem; words from
J Krishnamurti's "The Lake"

[sass]