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.