Roads, like rivers wind
Cut through the earth with the passage of time.
Souls, as droplets they intertwine –
Intermingle; imprint becoming labyrinthine.
Sublimed, effervescent bubble
– double marked toil and trouble
The persistence of time, all in a rush.
Even into solid stone, flowing water cuts.
Struggling to get out,
As above, so below in a gush –
From brook, tributary, to river mouth.
By jagged rock, free flow by
A view to enthral.
The rapid rush, taking all:
Sucking in slips streams
The river races and roars
By rapids, the trials that life goes fly ;
Endlessly, to what end?
Eventually to start again.
Yet, return to source
All made its mark,
Back on course
Similarly, souls pass through the land
Leaving their mark with lives and hands
Of the light, but in the dark
Consciousness of finite lifespan
Limited perspective of human
Full of surprise
Walked by the weary eyed
Many seeing but blind
Where one-eyed man makes king
With ideas hurled
In society circling
A hive mind
Yet, along embankments grow;
Lush life, the stuff of dreams
Passed by, for many souls.
When one is made for the road
The journey lightens their load
As wondering souls need wandering soles.
Free of – and yet on course,
carried by ebb and flows.
What doth one possess but dreams?
Which may shape reality
Through actions, louder than words
Though what’s voiced, may be heard
Like ice, cracks may show
Melt, revealing what’s below
Dealt cards, life’s probability
Erstwhile, choice made in games course
Carried on by momentous pace
Though in stages, it is a race
The streams flowing quickside mountains are free
But come to meander, rivers run slowly
Do as one ought
But can one truly step twice into the same river?
The answer is nought
Doth time not change the waters woe delivered?
Droplets accumulate, and splinter to slivers
Doth time make capricious master
You’re but a speck as it flows faster
Subject to the whims of current thought
Of the moment in which you’re caught
Material imprisoning thine not stronger?
Consider, perhaps much immaterial
Make thine life more ethereal
Words matter, as thought, or to say
But when written last longer
Giving life after days
Like wind, change bearing- hold sway
Above all else, treasure freedom
Listen to others, don’t believe them.
Yet Hope, like the birds overhead, soars.
Free, See the bigger picture:
How can a part of the whole be singular?
A drop in the pond
Is fluid, without bonds
No telling where it would go: further
Just leaving its source behind.
With twisting, snaking lines.
Paths and streets, see shortcuts side-lined.
Streams and tributaries grow: with their burdens.
Where the bodies meet, at different times.
Scratch the surface and you will find…
Among detritus, puzzle pieces lost over time
Lost in translation
The wind blows, and makes
Ripple effect reverberation.
Along lazy meanders
Where time moves slow
And one can wander
Above hidden depths below
And all which live within
Along, aloft, and beside.
From all parts wide
To the smallest niche aside
When one casts eyes deeper
One sees surroundings houses creatures
Whose mechanisms depend on features
Of rivers, roads, banks alongside
Footsteps leave prints on the pathway,
Rite of passage, making trackways
Carve your own path someday.
Ensure hope doesn’t fade
Not until the very end.
‘til that dying day…
Before yet again.
Time takes what’s not tied down
What goes around comes around
What lies beneath water, or ocean so deep?
Location is key. Container of all, and its dilution.
Saturated salts, and detritus added to the solution
Roads, are walked by many on paths of life
Also containing what has been left behind.
We travel so much in our minds.
How much do we see when we sleep?
Cast thine eyes deeply, as murky shadows enthral.
Silhouettes cast as reflections
Twisting and turning by deflection
Interpret the refraction
The difference made by reaction
Thought and actions of all
Culture legitimatises how people behave
While most, unthinking walk around in their daze
Do we not live, in an age of glass – transparency
Is it not a time, of exposed frailty
Will the cough take me
Hammer in my coughin’ nails
In life, one is doomed to fail
If point is choice, to be free