Passing

I see time flowing by

An endless, tireless stream

Sometimes winding,

Sometimes whirling,

Sometimes crashing into hard rocks

Far below

And I see all the fish in it

Struggling against the flow

Thinking they'll be the one

To make it

To the very end

Some succeed,

And reach the source

And leave parts of themselves, to fertilize

The later generations

But even those someday die

And are washed downstream

Where they are swept, dead and rotting

Into the sea

To lie, forgotten, fossilized

In the mud of

Obscurity

And then, as I watch

I realize, suddenly

That I am one of those fish, too,

Swimming desperately upstream

I begin to move my fins harder…