The Lake

This is how we draw our witness. On the horizon, a lake reflects the sky. The soft blue opens like a quiet mind, And in its depths a silence seems to lie.

How wonderful is the touch of leaves, When the wind gently whispers to the trees. The water laps against the shore’s embrace, A mirror trembling with the secrets of the breeze.

Here amid the reeds, where lilies bloom, I dream of days where pulse calls like a drum; The quiet hum of nature, the sweet perfume, In these still spaces I am truly home.

• Rainer Maria Rilke