I was so sure that the water was pure, like me,
Though it stung my eyes when reflecting too much myself

But then suddenly the eyes that open under that water
Are not directed towards me
And they don’t look the same any longer
So I wonder if I am rising too high to see the soil
Or if it is them falling to the bottom of the lake.

I cannot read those eyes anymore,
They tell me nothing. The water is too pure,
Glowing and throbbing with a tangible absence.
Where are the fish, the seaweed?
I ask myself how come I can’t tell.

Am I feeling rage or desolation?
This may be the threshold of a road I’ve never been down
Or just the final crossroads of ours.