MY WATER LINES

My river of life,
gentle, blue, transparent-
flow, sometimes calm and quiet,
pebbles, swift movements,
of fish coming up to the surface,
then going down,
other organisms moving,
to and fro,
visible to the naked eyes,
stars and moon,
reflecting underneath on starry nights.
My life,
gushing forth at,
other times,
reminding one of an avalanche,
even pebbles underneath,
being rolled to the front,
force of flow,
that intense.
My life,
muddied and opaque,
with nothing visible,
to the naked eyes,
restive and violent,
like a boiling sea.
My life,
sitting on the banks of my life,
drawing water lines,
on water,
like a child building,
sand castles on the seashore,
being frequently washed away,
by waves,
leaving the child disappointed.
Unlike the child on,
the sea-shore,
building sand castles,
repeatedly,
washed away frequently,
by waves,
leaving him frusted,
with smiles stamped on,
my lips,
continue I,
drawing water lines,
transparent or muddied,
no matter,
know like my inner palms,
my water lines are not there to stay,
ephemeral, quite ephemeral,
like a foolish act,
continue I non-stop,
my life,
the human life as a whole,
ephemeral, quite ephemeral.