A Pond Flower
Jakeb's Philosophy About Life
Water, The substance of life.
We are all puddles of a kind.
As a babe,
It’s merely a dimple left from the rain.
As we grow,
Our puddle does too.
A spring, a pond, a pool,
A grand lake, or perhaps a sea
In ripe old age,
Some of us become an ocean.
Age is not the catalyst
That generates the size of our basin.
The culmination of experience
and lessons learned on the way.
Our problems appear as
Pebbles, rocks or boulders.
The bricks of our accomplishments
All turn to sand in the end.
A pebble could be a hurt feeling,
A rock could be the battle of illness,
A boulder could be the death
Of a precious person in our life.
The magnitude of loss or change
Is determined by the individual.
Some of us make boulders out of pebbles
For some it’s the other way ‘round.
How to turn these stones to dust?
We may pound at them ourselves
Or get help from a friend, doctor, lover.
Such helpers may sit by our shore
With their mallets and chisels,
Some may even dive in with a jack hammer.
Whether it is by our own hand or another
The rocks must be broken & shattered
Transformation occurs and our bayou swells.
Pumps affect our body of water
Thirsty vampires may drink
To fill their own gulf
Absorbing our essence.
There are good ones as well,
Those that share love and friendship,
Exchanges that fill both lagoons,
With ethereal silver nectar from the universe.
Sometimes we get cold.
Sheets of ice cover our reservoir.
The rocks and pebbles thrown our way
Accumulate and are held for later.
Then it warms, the ice melts.
All those rocks hit us at once.
We have to wait for the
Ripples and drifts to calm
So the work can begin again.