We build a self with the silt of the past

Forgetting, the river yet to come is vast

It may bury our cherished project

Or may carry us to the sea, bedecked

The flow can never be stopped

It is our connection with it that is dropped

We become like islands, in search of a path

Even the tranquil sea seems to be full of wrath

Webs we weave are porous, they cannot even hold a drop

And the dam of desire brings us to a full stop

The scenery doesn’t change, only the sky switches color

To look beyond the island we yearn to become taller

Water does not walk upstairs

It’s happy to flow where the land wears

Waiting patiently, for the air to thin

Rising high, from where showers fill rivers to the brim