The Perfect Place for the most Imperfect Person.

It's shallow depths that scrape your skin,
yet, not enough to harm you.
And, floating dreams of some odd sort;
the beauty in surrounding wind.

It's perfection in delightful ways -
sketching figures in such calm, cool waters.
And, no sounds can be heard,
but the movement against sparkling ice.

The sun sets - so delicious in it's own way,
like a burning fire over this wondrous glazed earth.
The darkness settles, but no fears seem to arise -
the perfect place for the most imperfect person.

- - -

And, I still feel here at home - inside and out,
the wonderful peace surrounding my being . . .
as if no problems belong to me, nor this earth;
. . . If only it were true, my perfect utopia.