• The glass spreads
    in my sight, shimmering.
    It's so smooth and still
    I can see my face. And
    so I sit on the banks
    of the stagnant world
    below me and close my
    eyes. I listen to the
    birds, who sing of
    the dawn and the dusk.
    I feel the cool breeze as
    it encases me in its purity.
    And then my hand brushes
    something smooth, so
    smooth and soft but
    solid. I lift the object up high
    but my eyelids remain shut.
    A pebble. All it takes is a
    pebble in the water to
    make the biggest wave.
    I've heard that a butterfly's
    wings can cause a hurricane,
    cause such disaster that no
    one stops to think of the
    butterfly. But a shatter in
    the glass, a simple ripple in
    the water will not hurt. I
    lay my head down against
    the rough bark of a willow
    and I release my shining
    soldier into the glassy
    wonderland of stillness.
    My eyes snap open. A
    ring. Two. Three. Four.
    A natural disaster now
    rests on my shoulders.
    But the ripples make me
    feel safe in the comfort
    of the forest. My eyes
    start to close, content.
    And at the moment a
    permanent sleep forms,
    I hear the splash of a
    pebble, another one, just
    around the river bend.