A Clever Brook

A clever brook finds its way,
winds, combs,
to the end of all things

To the end-
to the place where the air grows cold , promising
promising a surprise, all trivial, all familiar

This is the fate of all things,
and yet, the clever mind their steps
careful for the loss of but a drop

A drop to those along the way, parched
thirsty in the ways of all things mortal
a mortal thirst, which does threaten all annoy

It is the thirst which drives the currents,
pushes the selfish,
drags the selfless,

To the place where the night is dark, suspicious
suspicious of a theft, a theft of me,
screaming for those of the current, no mind for the cold air, the suspicious night

The clever brook minds its shores
as tree and man alike do conspire
O' the wondrous things, their part could acquire

As all do thirst, all too do drink
drop by drop, a mortal and endless crave
day and night betray, another day to thirst again

The clever brook sees it all,
its wit, does embrace the night,
its spirit, embraces the beating sun

Skillful waters wind and comb,
they become an end, a different end,
embracing the beating sun

Beating upon the waters until, no more
alas, not a drop left to drink,
the clever brook has become the fool

The fool that knows-
that it is better to have dried up,
than ever to have flowed at all.

5 January, 2009