The gentle yellow day
with its smoke smudged clouds
curls around the hours
like a sleeping cat
and still the time passes
ticking gently into forever
while I surf this great wave
that is my part of the ride
and the endless now keeps moving. . .
moment upon moment
thought upon thought
life upon life
I do not want to be a lake. . .
even a calm one, with endless depths
and mirror flat surface that reflects the sky.
I do not want to be contained within boundaries
slapping up against the confines of the earth.
I want to be a waterfall. . .
so the rushing, gushing, river of me
can run off the edge of a cliff
and fall endlessly, joyously
down through the sparkling air.
I want to be a fast flowing river
on its way back to the ocean.
© Susannah Bec 2011