writing

Still

When my soul is all snarled up inside

And I can’t find the end to untangle myself

If I can get away

To find the still water–

The sound of it lapping

Gently against the shore

The calm of the trees

Reflected and rippled back to the sky

The mountains standing sentinel

Ageless and immovable

–If I can find these three combined

Water, tree, and mountain–

And hear the song they weave

The tangle unsnarls itself

I am at rest

With my feet

Dabbling in the water

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3 thoughts on “Still”

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