The simple whisper of the water is misplaced
Among the babbling of pleasantries
That allow you to avoid the deadfalls and
Rapid areas tugging at your attention.
It all trickles back
Upstream to the blockade of twigs and broken things,
The lax in flow.
To run a net along the bottom where
Things get kicked up and drawn out,
And on occasion,
Drag you in.
A heart shaped face captivates with
Deep pools of blue with flecks of gold,
Smiling up from the bed
Of a truck mucked with
Late night platitudes.
As long as you wade about,
Your feet might brush against broken glass
And rusted remnants that beg your pardon.
If you don’t watch where you wander
You might get caught up in tangled conversation
By old hooks and lines
That have pulled you in before.
Finding Ikigai 
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