Things change, they say, it's always been.
New rules arise, old comfort's thin.
The ground feels loose, the future blurred,
A wobbly world, a silent word.
High up they watch, with knowing eyes,
As worries grow, and hope just sighs.
They see the shift, accept the flow,
While down below, the fear seeds grow.
It's scary now, this shifting ground,
But still the hills and streams are bound.
The river runs, to where it's meant,
Into the sea, where all is spent.
And we, like drops, must find our way,
In ocean's dark, another day.
The world keeps turning, fast and free,
And 'stable chaos' is all we see.
T.M.Solvang
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem