The lake has awoken lingeringly from the delicate folds of the night
Into the mysterious halo of the predawn,
Soon to dissolve into the burgeoning, limpid languor of the morning.
Birds have filled the air with morning songs –
A new day in the life of the humanity is stirring to start.
Cynthia is walking around the lake perimeter in her morning prayer.
Even before the visit to the lake,
She was up in her altar paying homage to her maker,
Reigniting her spark, recrsystallizing her vision.
Cynth gave up an exciting life in a metropolis,
To walk the forests of her native country to find her God,
She gave up a promising professional career to touch her roots,
To find the unknown that would illuminate her life,
Fill her mind with the stillness of a lake,
The rapture of a blossoming lotus.
Suffern, New York, 9.12.10
