In the swirl of turquoise currents,
a golden koi arcs and curves,
its body tracing circles
like the turning of the seasons,
like the rhythm of your own breath,
moving forward, yet always returning.
Lotus petals, purple as twilight,
float on the surface;
silent witnesses
to the koi’s endless orbit.
Each revolution glimmers
with the memory of the last,
each pass closer to something
just beyond the eye,
the center you feel but cannot name.
Water wraps and unwinds
around fins and stems,
the dance of ebb and flow
teaching patience,
teaching surrender,
teaching that the circle is not a trap,
but a path,
a spiral upward,
a journey inward.
And as the koi turns again,
the lotus opens wider,
the reflection deepens,
and the truth, once distant,
rises gently to the surface:
waiting,
silent,
inevitable.
