this river's ramble

sometimes i find myself feeling like the fourth little piggy
which isn't exactly something to boast about
to identify yourself by what you lack
glass half empty, much?

(ohmygah.
my stomach hurts a little too much to write
maybe the warmth of my laptop will alleviate the discomfort
serve as an over glorified hot water bottle
that's versatility for you)

but sometimes we can't help but lose sight of what we are
and fill our field of vision with everything we aren't
everything we lack
providing for nothing but a blank stare
and who's ever engaged by a blank stare..

i think i'm still a little scared to let myself completely go here
to ramble
to babble

it's like two creeks
if one creek really admired the other creek's flow
the way it rounded bends so effortlessly,
the infallible smoothness of every cascasion
and in its flurry of aspiration and insecurity, attempted to match the other creek in each finite detail
to reproduce each splash in its exact magnitude at an identical location
to replicate each bend, each tumbling of froth over rocks, each splay as it navigates around logs
the harder it tried
the harder it worked to mold its own natural flow
well you can imagine it
it'd be ridiculous, ridic-dac-donculous even
oh little creek, your God-given flow is just as beautiful.
go on-
ramble,
babble.