The stream rushes past
Oblivious of the banks
Which themselves mutate

About Ben Naga

The Spirit that graces me with its passing has no name and stems not from thoughts and words, though it gathers them up as it flows, but from feeling.

Posted on May 3, 2017, in Wee Poems and tagged , , . Bookmark the permalink. 4 Comments.

  1. Ben, I really love this metaphor. Cool imagery as well.

    Liked by 1 person

  2. I wondered what that sound was. πŸ’­πŸ’¨

    Liked by 1 person

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