The Pond God

 
A young god could take any shape he wished. 
Once he changed into a bee and stung the other gods. 
Infuriated, they chased him across the horizon. 
He changed into a lake, but the gods each took 
a single mouthful and left him to be a pond forever.
 
Time passed. A forest grew. Through its trees 
his watery eyes reflected the blue sky and the stars. 
Dead leaves floated over his rippled forehead.
Clouds, slow in summer, faster in winter, 
drifted across his cheeks, wrinkled by the wind. 
Fish and frogs, lily pads and water snakes grew inside his
belly. In winter, when they died, he was locked in grief. 
In spring, when they thrived, tears of joy swelled him.
 
A thousand years passed, and the gods, taking pity, 
went to the pond and spat out their mouthfuls.
The pond became a lake, but the god did not reappear.
 
Why do you not rejoin us?  asked the gods. 
 
Because, replied the lake, I am content not to.
 
And that is why contentment is not something one seeks
but something one finds.
 

 

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