Copyright 2010, Mark Lawrence, All Rights Reserved.

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High, Cold, Silent, Alone

                  There's a high lake,

                  Held between three peaks,

                  Fed on snow-melt,

                  A dark mirror of the sky,

                  Too cold to ripple.

                  If you touched it,

                  If you climbed where only I have been,

                  If you saw what only I have seen,

                  In that silent hollow,

                  Hidden from the world.

                  If you touched those dark and trammelled waters,

                  Ice would spread,

                  A white flower opened,

                  Arms reaching distant shores,

                  You would make the water stone.

                  There's a lake,

                  High, silent, cold, alone,

                  I see it always,

                  In my mind,

                  It frosts my breath.

by Mark Lawrence