life is not a babbling brook
or profluent river reaching for the sea;
it is more a waterfall,
splashing upon rocks
and wasting of itself
to drop to lower heights.
it is a rapid,
violently attacking
any who dare cross its path.
it's true:
there are short spans of tranquil waves
where the only ripples are made by
waterbugs on the surface
but nothing is so mutable as
the current of existence.
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