Who am I?
"How silly,"
the pond replies,
"Seems your eyes'd
see through your disguises
a sight better than mine."

But when I reach into the deep,
distorted ripples lull to sleep
the me I'd need
to really make
these murky waters shine.

"Then come inside,
the water's fine,
or at least
it's all you've got to drink."
But if I submerge,
Will I ever emerge?
Or drown myself
with liquid think?

What will I find
but fishing line
cast from some other
fisherman's rod?

Is anything mine,
swimming behind
the genes of history?
Perhaps I'll try...
But I may die.
"Oh, what a mystery........."

For who am I
to have this choice?
Just some noise,
a soulless voice
dawdling in the shallows.
"But would you become
A forgotten old crumb,
A bundle of bone and tallows?"

No, I'd wish not,
but what've I got?
This pond's no ocean,
that's sure.
"So return one day
when you've steeled your faith
or maybe obtained
a magic lure."

I recall now the reason
I love winter's season,
alone on my land dwelling
limbo.
While frozen you are
reflecting the stars
over schools of mindless
minnow.