Narrative Poem

He sat there, cross-legged,

with his knees to his elbows,

and his hands to his face,

looking across the lake into

the horizon.What he looked for

I did not know, but I wish I did. 

He looked across the island 

dotted horizon, as if though 

the depth of the on-forward

distance was the very same 

that resided within him. 

His eyes searched for meaning

in the profound and I searched

for the same truth within him. 

He picked up a stone that laid

next to him, and he threw it. 

It skipped across the water

and averted my gaze from

him to it. It made one final

leap and sank beneath,

and so did we.