Descendant Sonnet

There’s a stillness-adjacent
Calm like a quiet cave pool
Lapping at experience.

Is it truer than the rest
Of what it is to be life,
Living appetites and fears?

Divert these words into it
Wherever you can find it,
Then wait for them to emerge

In a spring in the mountains.
Have they altered? Are they rich
With minerals? Crystalline?

Can you trace an old message
In a lineage of calm?