Hold onto the good thoughts
even though the bad thoughts can feel
to be sitting right beside you,
staring you in the face,
and you think,
"I must face the truth. Everyone else
is only fooling themselves."
But...
what is truth?
I only know two:
I am,
I will die.
The rest is as one makes of it.

You see these ugly thoughts right next to you
because they are at the bend in the river
you have woven into your mind,
centuries of glaciers going in the same patterns
and wearing deep grooves.
You forge your world anew every moment,
you that am I.
Don't let the past trick you into thinking
that it is reality.
Your fears of what might be for the future,
they too travel in rafts along those same canyons.

The only thing that I can prove is,
I am,
not, I have been
or I will be,
for nothing is so certain as to suggest permanence.

Carve paths that will lead you to the mouth of the ocean
where all becomes one anew.