We are water in a great river.
Each with a clock buried deep within
as we search for a place not yet seen.
We move in flocks and herds, down
roads without numbers, climbing stairs
to doors unfamiliar.
There is a calling within a few. A
message scrawled on the heart, a word
remembered, a gift yet used.
We are a great rush of sound over the
earths uneven surface as we become the salt
of ideas and inventions, defying sleep
We are a sense of power, though not
one of us can take credit for the simple
beauty of being the creating a flower.