The Mirror

The lake was a mirror in the early evening light,

The trees appearing to grow down into its inky depths,

The clouds floating beneath the glassy surface. 

Another world,

One of perfection, stillness. 

And then a single bubble rose to the surface,

Ripples fanning out across the water,

Endless, chaotic beauty. 

I realized at that moment that perfection is an illusion,

Stasis, the enemy. 

Give me the messiness of the endless ripples of life,

The change, the joy, the sadness,

The uncertainty,

For that is where real life happens,

In the brave heart of that one bubble,

Rising against all hope toward the sky,

Not knowing what it would find upon reaching the surface,

But determined to break free,

To join with the Earth and sky

In a joyful hallelujah. 


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