Saint Peter Walking on the Waters

In the lake of my mind
Thoughts shift beneath the surface.
Ripples push the waters outwards.
They never touch, always move.

And so it is with all of us.
Never close, for ever
Making ripples, pushing away,
But never reaching our shores' furthest limits.

Boats once plied these waters.
They are gone now.
Sky and cormorant, breast to breast,
The flicker of memory only.

These waters are dark now.
They contain the outbound rings
Yet hide what's underneath.
And the dark waters lap in silence.

Darkness carries all things.
Carries too, these gentle waves.
Waters, movement, depth and dimension:
All the constraints, but time.