The day flows by just like a slow moving river
washing over all in it’s path
carrying away the cares of those in need
of this moment in time.
Moving down and away forever
as far as you can see until the night
when thoughts turn to a new day that might
flow by just like a slow moving river.
The day just like the river flows it’s determined way
as the river silts the bottom covering it anew
the time of the passing days likewise hide what once was true.
A flowing river is more or less changeless.
The seasons determine if it’s surface will be calm and slow
or fast and choppy or perhaps frozen over.
It’s below the surface that history flows and is recorded