Forever flows fast like a turbulent river,
Carving through each tomorrow with
A wild and ruthless expediency.

We are merely paper ships,
Flimsy and vulnerable in its
Tenacious waters.

Though some may stray off course
At the perpetual shift of the current,
Or crumple at the beleaguering
Of a ferocious wave,
Most will carry on.

But during some blessed moments,
When the breeze cools still
And the waves subside into placid ripples,
We may float tranquilly downstream,
At peace with our existence.

But alas, paper ships are
Cursed with a limited mortality.
Eventually we will each plummet
Silently into the murky depths of the river,
Casualties of its never ceasing flow.