The quest for water here and far.
 Is good though there are traps of tar.
On the way one muddles through.
 Escapes the mud for a clear, clear view.

Birds do sing along the way,
 To destination's watery  bay.
Also lakes join rivers to oceans great,
 Oft fill the soul on every day.

The trail is a motherhouse,
 To those that thirst.
Desires and wants surface,
 As the mind comes first.

Here is where the "road" does turn;
 Many of those routes I see end there.

Moving slowly on a railroad,
 Indicates one must learn.

Yet, the "quick and the dead,"
 Do litter those rails.

A hop into the river;
 It empties to the sea.

They deposit into the swells,
 So also many trails.

The takers run,
 To the falls, and;
Go too fast!
 Always missing it all!


written 11-23-93 (revised 5-8-01)