We are only
simple creatures,
pleased by so much less
than we would guess,
able to endure
so much more
than our fears suggest.
Our lives revolve
around pleasure and pain,
sad truth or not,
it seems it’s our lot,
but won’t we at least
trade famine for feast
and choose real over rot?
A lone drop of rain
bests a spurious sea
and a counterfeit dream
cannot glisten or gleam,
go find what is true
that is deep inside you
and let still waters teem.
