The moon kissed the forehead of the pond,
as trembling stars embraced its calm,
as if the heavens, vast and deep,
had found their home within its arms.
The marsh watched on with murky eyes,
laden with a heavy gloom,
no star had ever called its name,
no light had graced its silent tomb.
It whispered low, a voice of silt:
"Why must I drown in shade and hush?
Why does the sky refuse to rest
upon my waters, still and lush?"
The wind, a sage of wandering fate,
brushed softly past and dared to say:
"The less you swallow, the more you see,
for clarity holds eternity."
Yet envy wrapped the marsh in dark,
it clutched its depths, it pulled them tight,
it drank itself into the void,
and severed all from warmth and light.
The pond, so quiet, asked for none,
yet bore the stars within its chest—
and in its stillness, silver-clear,
it cradled time. It cradled rest.
A poetic reflection on clarity and envy, this piece contrasts the serene acceptance of the pond with the consuming darkness of the marsh. It speaks of how openness allows one to embrace light, while grasping too tightly leads only to emptiness.
