is strange, it's there and yet it is not.
it flows, no-one can say where it is.
the river is there as real as anything.
is a spine, a backbone of life.
the river contains life and debris and transports both.
here follows the angry flow of an untiring river.
I feel so strange,
I am there and yet not,
I have a start and end, I forgot.
Because I flow, no-one can say to me,
Where I live or belong,
Much like a lot of things on earth.
Being a thing though,
As real as anything alive today,
I contain the life and debris of the times.
Each day, each night,
I slip and slide this way and that,
Eating away at my banks.
From source to sink,
I flow and think,
And don't get any thanks.
2nd July 2019