Traversing the stream with a tunneled stare
The trout flows down from it's lair
Seldom feeling the dry earthly air
Or glancing upon a passing swimmer
No smile or twitch; not even a glimmer

The current sways just as the wind
And, carries the fish as if it's pinned
To no single thought of how it had sinned
Onto friends and alike there is no concern
For taking a life or spilling an urn

As then just becomes a memory of now
And, something is nothing if you allow
Time to wipe the sweat from your brow
Or, have clocks watch as you sit around
Waiting alone for the burial mound

To form inside of the weedy undertow
Where no one seems to care to know
Why they are destined to live below
The outer space that we call sky
Where talkers frolic and thinkers sigh