On a lake I'm drifting.
When a wind begins to blow my craft at will.
The moon silhouettes on the lake, the trees upon the
shore, and sounds of wildness pervade the skies.

While drifting on my boat, without oars.
Which heading should I take?
Possibilities satiate my head.
All in a feeble attempt, to preserve the self, within.


Yet in the end I must concede to the will of the wind.
For anything else is but a fallacy entertained.
Gazing into the water.
Distorted likenesses of my face I perceive.

Emotions of helplessness surmount me.
While drifting on this boat with merely me.
Somehow, I must surrender this kismet.
To the forces that eternally be.

While the wind blows upon the lake.
And the moon makes silhouettes of the trees.
I must descern the corporeality of life.
While on this lake, alone, with merely me.