Experience

Take from this what was satisfying.
Take, because you’re sick of giving.
You let your fickle friendships swallow you.

When the tide was low
your toes sunk deep into the silt.
You felt some comfort there;
you thought you found your sanctuary.

Oh silly beast,
you were mislead.

The earth resumed its regular rotation;
the river flowed and nearly drowned you.
Lucky you,
you survived.

You were too wounded—
bruised from striking against the sediments—
to even recognize the experience.


So when the tide came in this spring
you strayed into the forrest.
At once guarded and naive,
you supposed you were safe.

Foolish creature,
It was the same encounter.

But now you can
Take from this what was satisfying.
Take, because there’s no more purpose in giving.
You let your futile friendships interrupt,
But you’ll be fine.