The day started with high hopes,
I was glad to breathe the morning air,
replete with the promise,
that much work would be done,
...
Now he is ready to show his true face,
to be received in society,
...
a myriad of dreams,
a mosaic of lies,
brief, fleeting images,
...
In His River
I swim in your river,
but not like the fish,
which moves with the flow,
with ease and dexterity,
Nor like the leaf,
which cheerfully and obliviously,
travels the course,
charted by powers beyond it,
I blunder about and struggle,
Paddling clumsily with my limbs,
occasionally submerge,
only to come out,
gasping and choking,
helpless against the current,
all the while wishing that I was the river itself.