As legends go,
Ponds parturated or protected
by a lady of legends,
are so too sharply echoing calls

as honed by sirens,
as reflections of the earthly,
yet non-mondaine,

along its banks and beaches,
surrounded by hills and treetops
as many mamelons feeding the melancholic,

a lady on a road or rail appeared,
If only momentarily,
who, as that Lady of The Pond,
never sleeps.

Walden Pond
Where thought and transcendance
took form as bodies;
a body of water,
a body of text,

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Hence where a body, too human
laid a body to rest.

War and peace passes
the Lady of the Pond
Whispers of history
and tribal chanting
made this Lady and the Lady-in-Passing, as one;
as The Lady of The Pond

The Lady’s lasting in memory
churning agnostic agitations by embracing baptising or paddling and diving as to butter
from milk, in the Walden Pond.

imagination transitions
Walden Pond, walden pond, a walled-in pond, succulent pond, to the pondering woman wondering by

Wondering as thinking, of today’s unfound treasure, testing her memory and her rekindling, with her mother’s mother’s mother’s land.

To row on Walden Pond, is to peddle Tho-reau, is to meddle with minds, romantically so.

The Lady of The Pond, evolving, revolving the Lady on the Road; dissolving, involving greetings as intertwined; with wavings from the Walden Pond.

 

-animasuri'17
Beijing, May 22, 2017