The Fifteenth of January of the year two thousand and seventeen of the Anno Domini era.
It starts with a small trickle
Which generates into a reasonable flow
The water pushes against the walls
Slowly making its way to
a greater level of expression
If you don't want it to come out
Don't let it trickle
Or be faced with the impossible task
of fighting the laws of nature
Which to the blind optimist
seems possible at the start
Fighting against inevitability
certainly has its quirks
we learn many strange skills
we follow strange paths
we always fold in the end
The journey, its the journey
everyone is clambouring
for an authentic journey
the beginning and the end
have no significance
journeys last forever
Someone seems angry?
it will pass
Someone is sad?
It will pass
Someone is dead?
It will pass too
Someone is traveling the path
It will never end
Someone is writing a journal
it will never be complete
Someone is living well and free
the potential for eternity
is great
Eternity, seeing an infinity of
dimensions
In many different bubbles
all endless journeys of their own
Small trickles that have become
Endless gushing rivers to the sea
The seasons cannot be stopped
Replace them and you
replace them with
yet more seasons
The intereference of time is
inevitable
Stop fightng its flow
and set your soul free
A journey in resistance to itself
is a picture of futility with an
end
Why do we crave an end
on a seemingly inevitably eternal path of light
Does anyone else get the joke?
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