Objects in the mirror are closer than they appear.

Endings too, closer than they appear.

Once, the road streatched out before us,

Past the cypresses,

The shepherd’s hut,

And the wild mallards huddled by a dark pond.

We were going somewhere, I thought,

But the destination was uncertain.

Then we passed the cypresses and the shepherd’s hut and the wild mallards,

And found ourselves by a great lake.

By our measure, it was as deep as it was wide,

Because we could not see the other end of the lake,

Nor its bottom.

On a windless day, the lake is flawless glass

And in it you see the whole universe, perfectly shimmering –

Closer than it appears.