Once or twice in a lifetime, if we’re lucky, we stumble upon a hidden lake. A lake we’ve never seen before; a lake we never dreamed existed.
Other people may know about this blue-treasured lake, but until this magic moment we remained innocent of its beauty.
Perhaps the blue of a damselfly will lead you along a forest path to surprise you with the serenity of the hidden lake. Perhaps you’ll emerge from a meander in swamp-lands to suddenly gasp at the jeweled surface of the shining blue. You never know how you’ll find it. You’ll only know it’s a gift reflected in still waters.
The secrets it carries underwater whisper beneath the azure sky. Gently a fat golden fish flutters by near your outstretched fingers. Frogs croak love song melodies near the banks. A dragonfly settles nearby, drying its many wings before bursting upward in flight.
The lake lay placidly here all along, all these long years, when perhaps you’ve passed within singing distance unconscious of its lapping waves. How many more treasures exist so close to us, so very close, and yet we never swim in their coves, never dangle our feet in their waters, never glimpse the eagles diving and careening from the skies above?
The wild rose nods toward the hidden destination. She, for one, hints with her heady summer scent.
“May you find your hidden lake,” she murmurs and we listen silent to the loons calling in the waterlily of our heart. We’re so close. Just around the bend, she waits.