LIFE SEEN AS A RIVER RUNNING THROUGH A LANDSCAPE

Life wanders, a meandering river,

through the landscape of what is the world

in those years through which

we exist, a mirage

of continuity then, an illusion

that it existed and will exist

when we are not

inhaling, exhaling. We

want it all have a meaning,

those deeply carved years

in the soft soil of that landscape,

time running muddy

in the zigzagging channel,

yet it's running from

nonexistence to nonexistence,

from brief meaning to oblivion.

Only these short decades,

and no escape, and

look how it all grows dim,

how small it all is,

this landscape that

is the fleeting world to us.

10.09.2019