Waterbearers

Immersed in scattered concepts,

Addicted to instant contact,

Gaining without filter,

Changing, rushing,

The people are all lost

In thoughts that erode

The structure of doing.

Vital to each day becomes

The repose of imposed image.

Floating from beginning to end

In spinning circles,

The overflow seeps into dead ends

Of reflection pools so still that

The wisdom of the stars

Descends upon them like parchment,

Yet they still cannot see themselves;

Watery images of a generation,

A race, a species, a perspective.

Words overflow spilling into every space

Converting known expressions into babbling syntax,

Liquid knowledge that rarely evolves.

Fleeting thoughts are dead before they are gone.

The full moon gives rise to tides that force change.

Push-back. Don’t change.

The water wheel of destiny forces combined wills into

Energy that will turn back time.

I see an old time,

A time of walking, searching, silence and doing.

A time of earth, a time of stories -

The longing is quenched

Eye to eye, hand by hand.