the way the emotions reign
in deluge, intense
submerging a smothering embrace
the dry streambed fills
again washing away the person to a place of return, the river’s hollow and its sea within.
sails align, the bow points away beyond the morass and upstream again, to fight the everpresent current that seems always pressing the other way. always some other way.
what is the price? the costs incurred in letting the incessant force achieve its goal and dictate. what is this current, what does it want, why does it exist!?
will i, be lost in letting go? or will i at last see that place ahead for which all will has ever been turned to find. is it that simple? even easy?
our incessant need to push back to force when it exists to be pulled without effort, its flow lazily leading your course in mind. its direction, your’s all along.