On A Dark Lake

In a moment
you will understand
how this world moves:
you will see that
it neither conspires against you
nor does it collaborate with you;
instead this world moves
serenely along, a canoe
on a dark lake of stars, a tree
minutely moving in
a microcosm stirred barely
by wind — and you
move with it, upset
or at peace depending
on the moment you feel it
and letting it pass over
is hard until you are older,
until you understand
those stars are elsewhere,
rippled briefly then made still
again or nearly so —
moving slowly, slowly,
more slowly thankfully
than you can move,
than you even
want to move.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
onward,
T