her small red rowboat drifts
further from the shore
at rest upon the quiet waters
that do not appear to her
to be water
but solid land moist and grassy
water flows deep beneath the surface
and she hears its breathing
its constant ebb and flow
ever moving to its destiny, alive
and as she drifts upon the water
reaches her hand deep into its warmth
it slips between her fingers
of her hand
that is the Water
that is the Shimmer
of golden Light
there is no more striving
pb 2012