It’s of an ephemeral flow, so all through the year it never runs slow.
Each and every time we try and cross it,
It tests us.
It tests us and it tests our patience.
I’m speaking of more than asking mere questions.
It speaks in riddles.
Words of complexity beyond that of mathematical equations.
In a single instance turn into complicated situations.
At times it’s our own pride that creates dilemmas we can’t erase.
The quest to cross the river can drive a man insane.
The wretched yet beautiful river of many names.
You start your endeavour with energy and in merriment
But somehow in between the river your efforts end in frustration.
We all have our own ways of approaching it.
Our own perception of intimacy and our own ways to show affection.
With each more unique than the next but we all face the same test
When once in a blue moon the river does give you an answer.
The answer only leads to another question
But curse the day when we’ll be left without out questions
Because void of our curiosity we’ll be left without a purpose
So forever is the affectionate
And at times hateful relationship between us and love.
For love is the true river of many names.