Let the River Flow

Soft and clear does the river flow,

That one so close to home. 

I sit beside, my dog and I,

And watch it gently go.

Any weight upon my head 

Sprouts wings and flies away,

Problems had, turn problems gone

When rested in its bed. 

But once a rain and storm did blow,

With fury and with might.

My gentle stream turned wrathful, mean,

Destroying everything in sight.

Alas, in fear, I built a dam,

Believing I could control.

A fool was I, thinking I’d

contain its wild soul.

The water stopped and grew quite stale,

Hoarding waste along the way. 

Once crystal clear, now muddied brown,

A cesspool of death and decay. 

Once I let the water be, 

the mud could settle down.

Took down the dam, and water flowed,

Clearing itself out.

See—

The river needs no help from man

To find its own true path.

When left alone, it journeys home,

And returns to source again.