All alone,
I sit by the lake,
Of pensive moods
Men come to lose.
Serene at it stood,
My mind was not,
I was stewing in my head.

Why must there be meaning?
My efforts are lost
Amongst the noise of the evening.
To sit here and not worry
Feels comforting.
To fall and worry,
Is not appealing.

I can clean gutters
And watch blue skies,
And justify my existence
With sweat that spills.
Simple is that proposition,
Would I feel constricted
By that burden?

Or I could climb vast mountains
Of extraordinary genius.
Only to summit
Under shadows of titans?

As I sit here by the lake,
Of this winter morning
Nothing can be said.
I have no answer, yet,
Maybe I never shall.

Of the lotus in the centre,
The dim light does no justice
As it struggles
Amongst the thin mist.