As the solid gold reflection of the sun lies atop a still lake,
I stand at water's edge, in reach of life's shoreline.
If I were to search within would I find myself.
Seeing an image dense on the surface,
yet not through it.

I'm I as shallow of life,
or am I leaving a wake?
Am I extraordinary as I unleash my years of existence?
Outward I flow by my pumping blood.
As a rock thrown into the water,
ripples the body surrounding it.
Under the depths of the glimmer is blindness,
even on a summer's day.  c