And then what happens if I am like that fish-
Caught by a hook and pulled up by a boat,
Eyes wide open, fear pushing in,
And the weight becomes too much and
I lay there still, forgetting to fight.
And what if this world, we soon learn,
Was made in all perfection, which
Somehow included me, and you and the fish.
And we are who we have always been, since
first light- yet we talk of change-
does the fading moon want change, does the lilly,
does the fish? Is there even any choice?
And yet we long for that day, the one that is
Always not that far off, but impossible to reach-
The one where unquestionable desire, becomes
A visible stream, and the fish, with more strength
Than ever dreamed, ends with a splash.
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