The Black Lake.

The murky depths await me.
I've stared too long at my distorted reflection,
On the ground I stand,
The other self looks back at me,
Looks me in the eye.
That terrible gaze.

Those eyes...
They know,
They shimmer with sinister knowledge,
Or perhaps all knowledge, if complete, is sinister?
They know everything there is to know about me.
They are my eyes,
Yet not mine,
The reflection always knows more,
You only choose not to see.
The godlike stare,
The temple of the black lake.
My reflection, made a god.

Tossed a pebble too many,
Observed them skim the surface of the terrible lake,
Seen them fly,
In the end they all sink, without fail.
Now, I am afraid,
So must I.
The lake beckons,
It ripples with impatience,
It must have its fodder.
It must be fed.

I breathe,
A deep breath.
The lake breaths with me.
It sighs, even as I do.
How afraid am I to dive within my own mind?
To face the whirlpool of my own thoughts?
How afraid are you?

Night follows night.
A darker night descends.
The moon has never shone more brightly.
The wind has never been this cold,
Never has its anguish been so apparent.
The reflection grows,
The other self becomes more real.
Time for me to step into the shoes of the distorted reflection.
Time for me to touch the bottom of the black lake.