As the river flows, so do the stories it holds.
Every critter and creature with its own purpose,
Carried away by the current to new beginnings.
What's so different for me?
As the clock ticks down the moments; Never looking back,
The river keeps streaming down;
For only it knows the stories from long ago.

The river winds and turns.
It can become violent in an instant,
Then calm another moment later.
For the body of water introduces life, and can take it.
The water may flow fast or it may flow slow,
But nobody may know.

Some rivers may be long;
But others are cut short,
However each one is beautiful in its own way,
For each one flows its own unique path;
And each one is full of timeless stories of its past.
There is no saying where one river will go.

And as I walk along the stream,
I am unable to touch the same water twice.
Because as the river flows, it is not the same river,
And as the clock ticks, I am not the same person.
The future may remain a mystery,
But it is the current that guides all I may accomplish;
And, all I may forgo.