Fleeting

Is our very being, like source energy perpetually manifesting and resurrecting into another state, on earth and the stars does this flow.

From our cores like blood through our veins.

From our birth like the Tigris-Euphrates both enriching both polluting the soul and mind. 

Which am I?

Does it flow in me with the current that my friends and loved ones paddle against? My own heart telling me that I feel peace and happiness in solitude. Me a wallflower? Irrigated with the sudor of a depressed, shy, and antisocial individual? No that's not right. If anything I am a Naiad, submerged in my own spring of happiness, fed by the Great Man-Made River. Surrounded by a psychosis that can't be more wrong than humans seeking to quench their thirst in an obstructed river.

Is this the right river to bathe in?

As I grow older my spring is polluted by the love I try to share with her. I love her and that makes me second guess what makes me happy. For so long I believed the Path I Walk was a lonely one. I am being pulled by the undertow of her happiness, my breath short and panicked.

This is all fleeting.

This is happiness.

I am happy.