I walk along the wooded path

that leads to a sacred spot

flooded with the past,

drenched in the present,

and spilling over into the future.

The surface ripples with reflections

reminding me that what I see

mixes memory with reality.

The lake lined with evergreens

is dotted with demise

of ancient hemlocks older than I.

Death makes me want to cry

when I see the naked limbs

stranded in the sky.

But when I bow my head

and see the barren branches

mirrored in the water,

the blight is blurred

and death is beautifully blended in.

I don’t know what I was looking for

when I came to the lake today,

yet I always find something

floating up and sinking in.

This fluid piece of peace

is one of those thin places

that feels like multiple spaces

spliced together with mystery

and pointing to eternity.