Watercolor

No need to review.

One day, at the river of life,

My fingers grasp curves of ripples

To stop time in its place

Imitating death.

As wind ceased,

Leaves turned brown.

The water turned foggy.

But a raven, from across the sky

Came to me.

"Creativity, reflection, 

The seeking of knowledge, 

The tides of patience

And time, move water," said he.

"Release your tight grip on life.

Let waters of experience fill your pot,

drip by drip.

Imitate my wings, not my reputation."

With hesitation, 

I let go of my grip. 

As time passed,

Colors formed in the sky.

Familiar patterns changed.

The water became clear.

Bitter fruit can become sweet

with time, I thought, 

and the allowing of wisdom.

Yes, wisdom.

Author's Note

Budda helped a little.