Life is a river
That's what grandad always used to say
A beginning, an end, a million different ways in between
He used to metaphore my whole life, how it'd end and float
Following the path of least resistance,barreling straight through the impossible
Clear as air and black as night
And no matter what direction or how it'd mowe or what it'd look like
the point according to grandad was that the river always moved forward
what kept him running the rabbits until he was old and grey
the mystery of what lay around the bend
These days that mystery is hard to find
The river is distant and sky clouded with concrete
For many of us, life’s great adventure, all its beauty all its connection sails by unnoticed.
Funny thing is the river’s never that far off.
One day the river meets the sea, and then that's not a river any more
It's past through the the wheels of change
in and out of experience, stories, advanture, grand ends.
Inevitably, the ride stops.
Lost but not entirely gone.
For now, as far as we can tell, the cycle of life,
well, it never ends.