When the flow of what is meant to be
comes up against a wall
it stands there quite bemused
for at least a million years.
It studies every straight and curve,
every crack, bump, hole, and split
but none sufficient for a pass
and it prays for transformation.
Let it be as water so to seep
through the seemingly impassable
and reach its destination.
But water? No, no, no,
It’s still of weight and measure
and a million years turns into two
while the flow thinks what to be.
So after two or maybe more
prayer discarded turns to slush
and sullies every new attempt
at change and transformation.
It’s just the way it goes
when the flow can’t see the way
so for me I pray for floods
to rise the flow above ~
and it does; it rises, up, up, up,
and like a dream supersedes