Person, place, and thing, each can be known

When they point to the past, they cause us to frown

Frozen in droplets of thoughts which we cannot reach

We are drawn to the uniqueness of each

Familiarity with the known, there is a price we pay

We are anesthetized to its pain during its stay

There is an influx of dreams, flooding our plate

We are quick to take the succulent bait

When we cling to persons, places, and things

They become our heartstrings

We enter the world of twos, happiness, and sadness

No doctor will diagnose it as a deep-seated illness

A river does not care if its a person, place or thing

Humbly washing valleys even though it's a mountain’s offspring

We are in life’s beautiful flow as a nameless drop

Persons, places, and things matter only when we give up and stop