Somewhere, in some far off place
there is a wood.
A quiet grove of trees, looming above a mysterious breeze.
In that wood there is a brook
that creeps independently
through the silent products
of nature's promiscuity.
it glides through pastures of exquisite green
and through forests hidden,
exploring the unknown.
This winding brook,
bubbling with a sagacious gurgle,
searches for stability and satisfaction.
Often times a tributary stream
will stray from the brook,
causing controversy in its journey
Streams leading toward lowly marshes of darkness and melancholy;
loneliness and betrayal.
but somehow they find themselves
merging again with the dauntless acceptance of the happy brook.
and so its life is a circle
of searching and desiring.
and maybe one day
the brook will escape the lonely wood
and reach its perfect destination
of the wild unknown joy
of individuality and spontaneity.
Written by 16 year self, circa 1994