So Still – Visions of Lake Mead

It seems as lifeless as the moon
but there against the weathered rock
fingers of aqua mingle
with prehistoric canyons and white rings of chalk.
So still, my heart slows-looking, listening. 

The blue reflection of unnamed faces,
the chants of half souls lost to change.
The morning clouds spy the attraction, searching-
always searching,
for the ancient landscape lost under the Lake.

Does time forget what lies beneath-
as the water swells with boats of lust. 
I am compelled to mention these things.
The clear blue water beneath bare rocky cliffs
and the ancient history I could not touch.
I pass by- just a tiny particle of dust
studying the curves with my soft lead pencil. 

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