Wishing Well

Shafts of light reach into the placid depths of the pool.

So, too, my gaze and my breath reach,
inward, downward through the mossy depths,
finding source and swing,
peace and wing.

The sharp relief of day's cast is softened,
and stillness imbues thought's idle current,
discoloring emotion to the point of peace
and back in reflection.

May the stroke of my gaze
and may the breath of my soul
be tokens that,
floating ever deeper into the still quiet depths,
find both their question and their answer,
find their expression from inward ever outward,
and their expansion onward, upward—beyond.

Well wishing to and from a wishing well,
for this moment and for all the episodes that follow.

© 2011 by Elisabeth T. Eliassen