evening by the lake side

i was sitting
so placidly
and peacefully
on that stone
the cold stream
of the brook
just touched the
bottom of my feet
but the pinch
of that touch
drenched my very inner
my soul and myself-being
 it was so quiet
quieter than the cemetery
but it was so heavenly
the peace i felt.
i left myself free
and let the brook
sway me with it
tha union
so various
yet so single
the rippes in the stream
i coul feel in my inner beig
drenching me
and my affections
i was so wet
and yes wet
throughouti was now it
or it was me
ther was no margin
left
of any kind
in this divine communion
iwas just swaying
effortlessly
like a bir
soaring the mightyinfinite
and sometimes
striking the bd
like cushion of clouds
and turning
and twisting
whirling and swhirling
in the whirlpools of joy
passing bythte curves
those like like those
of a reptiles imprint
takin decisive turns
so involved
so conjoined
as if
it wasn'y
the brook movig
but myself lading the path
it was not the journey of the brook
it was me
goin through life
and then it calmed dowm
the woods milding there pace
some queer gentleness
it tried to recall my journey
and recalled
how i befreinded with th stream
passing throu thickets
woods and some hoods
remembering the peace of the woods
and
trying to
desert away the memories of the hood
i was losing pace and
nearing a wider destination
where the brook had reached and with it i
and opened my eyes
it was still
the same place the stone and the brook
and my feet drenched
by the water
i stood to retire
to my place
and some drops
came with me
clinged to my feet
what to make out of it
a request from a friend
who wants me
to join him farther
to get lost with him
in infinite eternity,
or a gift from a fellow traveler
who wants o say
remember me
or a relic from the brook
as a memento of our company
What ever it be
i collected them
and with me i kept them
as a relic of a friend
who left me
to continue his journey
bidding me adieu.
i looked
at those drops
and remembered  the
same journey
so turned to recall
but could not do
it was not the sane brook
neither the same stone
and then
i gathered from there
why those drops were given to me.



how strange
things are never same
thus
gathering my memories
i resumed my journey
to my hood
across the woods.