we're all drifting through a stream,
at times calm and tranquil,
inching through glass-like waters,
ripple-less and clear.

still at others the water is black,
turning and contorting in wrath,
with an acrid, salty taste
you can't help but breathe in.

the stream never empties into a lake
or ocean or river or off a cliff.
however, it may run into other streams,
and they may powerfully bind together,
creating new rivers, and mountains,
and eventually, streams once more.