Hang on

 

It is a bothersome thing, time.  Ever present in thought and action.  It carries us along on our journeys without slowing at the bends or ever warning us of the rapids.   None of us ever asked to be here, yet we grow into our own narrative, placing so much importance on ourselves, we tend to forget we are still riding the current of time with no real control over anything.

Gathering wealth cannot add flotation, just as acts of kindness will not curry favors.  Some are simply destined to follow tributaries, leaving us to wonder about their fate. 

I did not stir my coffee this morning and now I discover the undissolved sugar has huddled in the center of my mug, as if some whirlpool formed it into an island.  It is the surrounding bitterness of the coffee that alerted me to this situation.  Just as the realization of time as a river becomes bitter and hard to swallow.

 

 

 "Keep your feet off the bottom

         should they become tangled

         in the rocks it will pull you

         under."