Life is a Stream

Life is a stream,
Flowing smoothly through green valleys or rushing in wild torrents,
like a herd of wild horses,
Fast and smooth between narrow banks of lily white sand and flowering trees,
Slowing down into a deep, dark lake, full of mystery and surprise,
Moving on around a bend. What is there?
Maybe a waterfall, a mile high drop into oblivion.
What will happen at the bottom?
A sudden death on jagged rocks, or maybe?
No, its just a pond, full of new ideas and hopes.

It moves again, forever onwards.
Still water now, slow and sad,
On either side the willows weep quiet tears for loved ones lost,
Or for a river with no end.
But now the river is a swamp,
Stagnating in some quiet place,
Full of nothing, devoid of hope,
Listening to the winds of time, laughing up on high,
At the stream that has no place to go.

Still the River, in its quest,
Moves a little, bit by bit,
Banks of mud and flats of silt,
It gathers speed towards the end,
The ultimate goal, of fate, of life,
There are no banks, no trees, no rocks,
Just a mingling of many rivers,

Now its the end of a journey great,
That lasts for years or months or days,
And all the rivers converge as one,
The end of a Great Adventure.
BUT WHAT LIES BEYOND?