Submerged beneath the lake’s golden iris,
her body drifted in surrender,
listening to the music of the universe
spilling its secrets into her veins.
The bird of paradise rose in silhouette,
its plumage a fleeting memory,
like the faces of past lovers
blurring into the haze of confusion.

The hills, black and steady,
stood watch over her solitude.
Their silence mocked her shame,
woven like a spider’s web,
each thread a detail she could not undo.
The lacework of her thoughts—delicate,
but broken—
postponed the weight of reality
for another breath,
another ripple of escape.

This was her last resort,
a refuge abandoned to the wind,
to the flight of birds
and the courage of stillness.
She swam deeper,
chasing the reflection she longed to become,
never wanting to be found.