I sit on the bank

I sit on the bank

Watching the water flow

Or am I the river

Dark and dangerous

A swirl of insecurity.

Do I run a steady course

Certain of long established

Boundaries

Remain constrained

By the certainty of this furrow

In time and circumstance,

Carried in the outflow

To a final resolution

A dissolution finely

Distributed,

Into the vast eternal blue.

Unless,

I simply peter out,

The truth of my existence

Dissipated before

The journey’s end.

Leave nothing but a stain

Upon the exposed surface

Of a bone dry bed.

But what comes first

The restless water,

Or the shore

And should this flow

Swell by volume

Its temperate nature

Be challenged to remain,

Withheld.

Will it overflow

Breach the walls

Of its confinement,

Flood the earth

With a violent outpouring,

Lay it to waste,

Strip its surface bare.

Until by virtue

Of instinctive ebb and flow

There is gradual withdrawal.

A retreat unto the familiar,

The well worn,

With no memory

Or purpose for its upheaval,

Until the next high water mark

Is reached.

I will not be that river,

I may sail upon

Its muddy waters,

Navigate its darker depths

But will step upon the shore

When time is right,

To watch the passing

Of the tide,

And let the troubled waters

Ebb and flow,

Safely,

To the sea.