Rivulet

Once in an unexpected way
A struggling thought did stray,
Leaving the appointed bounds
It hearkened to sweeter sounds.

A heady yet heedless brook,
Charting a way no one mistook
To be a plausible course
It burbled - spared no remorse.

Weak though it was, it was hard to dam
'Twas not the current, but the sham,
Mocking, random way it swayed;
That stopped its run from being stayed.

It was as if the rivulet
Knew what fate it would have met
And with an unseen force
Made its way from its source.

Downstream and upstream!
The thought was itself a dream
Unrestrained by physical law,
It charted a course no one saw.

But dreams have their own laws
As fragile as a dam of straws.
They can not sustain the gales
That pushing reality entails.

The brook seeped in the land --
It could not meet its own demand.
The blazing light of reality
Robbed it of all it could be.

But in the dry sandbed of time
You may yet spot its prime.
The thought is long bygone,
Its dry course still holds strong.

Memories

Furrows of my mind,
Lying straight as strings,
In which I sow keenly
Memories of you with me.
Bygone and happy things.

I nurture them with love;
Salt-water do they drink.
I keep them from the frost,
For they must not be lost --
They are my only links.

The seasons, they pass by
Each with its own trail
Of happiness and woe;
But my memories do not grow.
They only grow frail.

Lord, when shall I reap
Fruits of years long past?
Shall I even live to see
Just one grow into a tree --
How long will it all last?

Later, I realized;
Much late, too late, indeed;
Memories ought not to be sowed.
From them, nothing is owed,
For the tree lies all in the seed!