The waters move as we do:
the destination's not uncertain,
but the route is ever-changing.
That's why we sit in silence, here:
what questions could we have of
our oldest kin?
The sea, the lake, the river, all:
they live as we do, and watch
ceaselessly our comings and goings as well.
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Tagged: Tags Poetry
Published by Beleaguered Servant
Owen "Beleaguered" Servant (a/k/a Sibelius Russell) writes poetry mostly, with an occasional pause to have a seizure.
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