A patterns of shape, colors,

Imaginary hopes, dreams—

Life, like a river, moves ever onward

Gathering all the events of time,

Blending the good, the bad

And the indifferent into one stream.

Only in that one place in its embrace

That holds our individual life

Is there a clearness of sight.

We perceive love, hate, friendship—

All the personal relationships

That make our life worthwhile

As through a clear window.

For others, only sepia brown water

Flows by in the river we know.

Who knows, they might be right.

 

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