Sitting beside an early-springtime lake,

the wind in my face is still a bit chilly

and the shore plants- reeds and grasses-

are now barely beginning green.

 

I try to imagine  what it would be like

to watch this lakeside world

knowing

I was the only one doing so.

To watch with

no anticipation nor anxiety but my own,

no memory nor regret

no lies

and no truths.

I would

(I also imagine)

hear only the unending echo of

“I Am.”

without Desire.

only Attraction.

and in some green-leafy,

insect-clicking, cloud-rolling

ways,

a very real Love.