the river rolled back exposing saturated ground.
all that’s left is mud and debris, dropped by the last, greatest storm
we look at ourselves thinking, “what are we doing so wrong?”
and “are we not yet strong enough to swim this rustic, trying field?”

think of all the things that we’ve passed up just to get this far,
what are we that cannot pry our feet from this frosty shore?

Oh, woe are us who travel down through muck and mire and find it hard to keep it easy.
But “take it as it comes” i guess, is our new solemn anthem.
Bring it down, but shake it up, dance in circles, swing your arms,
and let your heart flow from mountains, while the river cries alone.

How good could it be to float to the top, and watch the stars from unshielded eyes?
And what good could come of this?
The air’s always been freshest in this pool,
in this mind

and how is it, every time we wake, we ache and shake,
tremble rather, at the thought of doing this all again?
I ask in curious manner, but more in fear,
not of the weak, but of the Truth

Cause you know this matters,
and only this should move your heart,
but not in terror
and if the fish don’t get stranded, how is that we do?