Like that before a storm, maybe
Or just the eddying lake where the waters from the falls come to rest
Hinting at past tumults, yet comfortable in today's ripples
Taking a breather before the Next Great Shift
There will always be another one
For even as it lies mirror-still
It craves for someone to dive in, shattering its peace
So it can once again strive for quiet.
Perfection is that it's always just a little out of reach.