| Perpetual Perishing Life's a row boat in which all abide and none can hide riding downstream-- whether rowing alone or sharing aside a friendship Not a dream really yet it may appear so sometimes--when the water's rough the rowing's tough and hiding's enough, seemingly Still you may go merrily down that stream and gently, effortlessly, too-- if you ready the self to die, and once dead, move on to make room for what's next It helps to see the source from which that stream's course flows, a venerable, veritable ocean of grace-- not a racecourse, mind you, and not a place for force, yet a fine gauzy porch Gateway to the deep end of things |
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