Sitting by a pond

I looked at the silver sun,

in a pond

I was busy feeding the fish

silver and golden;

the colours didn’t reflect

on the earth,

I was engrossed.

I thought of the moon,

of the night

as diurnal musings.

O what have we done

in this time!

Killed, butchered, slaughtered,

then blamed the night

as darkness?

We haven’t spared the daylight,

back-stabbed, betrayed, blew the whistle

but light, o light…

you are too bright for the stigma to sight.

I am still feeding the fish in contemplation

I echo without rue

the calm of this dew

the swimming souls without reflection.