Moving On

You don’t need to do much

Just breathe, eat, sleep
covers most of it
Debris – a leaf, a flower, a twig
picked up by the river
that flows
swiftly or slowly
(that’s relative)

Landscapes move
Everything passes by

And even when you reach the sea
or ocean
or some incomprehensible vastness
And even when you think you can
settle forever into the depths

There will be tiny stirrings

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