Caught in this fate
like fish in a river.
This path is narrow,
but still shifting; Still widening;
Eroding the earth; Raping the shore
one particle whole, of all I touch.
This fate, like a river; Not a cage.
Not a net. Not always stronger
than self-determination or spit.
The purpose, perhaps for most, is
to feed the land, feed the ocean,
feed something larger than itself.
But others choose or have chosen
to carve new paths. New rivers.
New directions. New latitudes,
escaping the platitudes for future
fish to swim through.
Someday, the earth will be covered,
and I’ll still be whirling toward the infinite
possibility of where this undertow
soon might take me.