Forever flowing towards me,
then out beyond
the open sea and
the
river,
sullen, sluggishly
takes on another life
and we believe
it's only man
who plans to execute
a will.

Hyperbole,
they said,
(a million times)
will be the death of me,

another will or won't you
try
to be
the river
strolling to the sea.

And the meaning
does not mean the end.

The exodus
never included nor
excluded us.

we became or we become and
some became
becalmed, some
Self-harmed and others
upped and went.

To all intents, it seemed a good idea,
dam the rivers
free up the land,
man's not content to have his fingers in
the cookie jar
he's got to have a hand in there.

Another mish-mash of my thoughts
to think on when I've
'bought the farm'

I wonder if Maggie really cares.
if I go to work or not.