The River.

© Copyright Iain MacDonald, 2010

The river hasn’t always been muddy.
The river used to run clear.
Tasted so sweet!
Quenched the deepest thirst.
We could spear fish, count pebbles with our toes.
The dreamtime was a constant meditation.

How do people know when they are being sedated?
Freedom, safety, without control
at ease without medication!
Now we have a mono-culture nation
hungrily devouring information
in-form Nation, slaves several times over
we know not who we are, drunk or sober
argue a lot, what matters not
constantly distracted, minds simply lost
in a virtual reality, nature the enemy
a bloodless artery, dried up river beds.

How can we live without water, trees?
Will we die not knowing the meaning
the truth of this incarnation?
Human sensations, feelings and suffering…
In the next life will you have
stronger intuitions, gut instincts?
Will you trust wisdom over knowledge?
Love over power?

The river hasn’t always been muddy.
The river used to run clear.