Keep walking 

Or rather start walking

Then you'll find the bench that breathes, not the one that pounds your eyes into a teary squint

Breeze will guide, as will shade 

Protecting from trees with overwhelmingly reflective gaze 

 

What do we accomplish in stress versus in peace? 

Both extremes seem to yield seemingly similarly structured productive outputs

Yet of different sources,

different spirits

 

What makes us designed to sit or sprint?

How do we flow in balance?

Or, alternatively,

In moments of flux,

What pushes us out of stall?

 

Water, even water isn’t always in flow 

But that's how we know it is sick. 

 

Inputs of newness, reminders of past 

Subtly ignite capacity to remove the surprisingly thin cover

Is it really only the influence of another?

 

Variations of leaves or feathers come and go, but that one stubborn sea creature holds onto its ancient shell with stubbornness of the world's turn

Refusing to adapt, how did we miss what they learned?