Poetry: Movement


I recall a speck of ancient wisdom

That the mark of success is to embrace

Patience: to lounge aside a riverbank

For a whole day, doing nothing except

Loving the long moment. This bright image

Fills me with dread and despair, for I want

To move like the river, to unravel

In an orgy of endless change, to bounce

On a kaleidoscope of shifting floors,

Under the spinning skies, rushing ahead

Through random currents, by stony shores,

Between the strange delights of helplessness

And the certainty that within movement

Lies the eternal rush of becoming.

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