What Lives in the Lake?

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Mist creeps out

from the dark lake shore

through the thickening gray of afternoon,

and crawls over sharp-edged stones in black and brown,

resting on mossy beds.

The air is cool like my brow

in the pervading stillness.


What will rise today

from the liquid murk,

from where bubbles rise?

Ageless runes led me here;

the characters dark upon a silver tome.


The water parts like my courage.

Ethereal light rises in tunnel form.

A voice, a creature.

Running am I

far and fast away.


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