The Poetry of Stillness
Reflective, seemingly placid waters
are actually on the move.
A natural glide whenever, wherever
there is a slope, however slight.
Motion caused by that downhill flow,
temperature fluctuations,
underground springs,
gentle breezes,
fish swimming,
or even a human paddling
is always present.
The hush of a sunset,
Reflective, seemingly placid waters
are actually on the move.
A natural glide whenever, wherever
there is a slope, however slight.
Motion caused by that downhill flow,
temperature fluctuations,
underground springs,
gentle breezes,
fish swimming,
or even a human paddling
is always present.
The hush of a sunset,
hope of a sunrise,
pull of the moon,
pull of the moon,
lull of the wind
without movement would not be.
Like the subtle drip of icicles
on a muted morning
after a spring storm,
there are times
when all seems paused.
without movement would not be.
Like the subtle drip of icicles
on a muted morning
after a spring storm,
there are times
when all seems paused.
There’s a clarity to the interplay
of dark and light,
to what one sees, feels, comprehends
that is deeply undeniable.
All just is as it is,
a poetically pure moment
of truth and stillness.
of dark and light,
to what one sees, feels, comprehends
that is deeply undeniable.
All just is as it is,
a poetically pure moment
of truth and stillness.
Sarah Carlson
April 10, 2019
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