On the river

I hope the sun shines bright. 

Because everyone is on a boat that falls off a waterfall at the end. But you cannot see it. You cannot see or hear how far along downstream it is. You are deaf to the river and you have your back turned towards the direction you are heading.

You can see. You can see the extent you have already covered. You know you will fall off of the waterfall but that doesn't stop you from loving all manner of creatures that you find along the way. You even build nests. You busy yourself with all manner of contraptions.

You can see. You can see the extent you have already covered. Your vision blurs after a point. But you can see. But you don't know what to do with what you see and what you have accumulated. But you see others paddling. You see them wanting to cover more distance before their impending doom. So you paddle too. So that you sail faster towards your goal. Always forgetting that there is no finish line but for the fall. But you can see the extent you have covered. You can see.

And you can imagine. You imagine the obstacles that might come up along the path. There could be rocks and crocs. All manner of dangers. And you are gripped with fear and anxiety. Not from the fall. Not from the fall that is sure to come. Not from the fall that might turn up any second. But from rocks that you didn't plan for.

But you never pause. You never pause to smile. You never pause and realise that the waterfall could be upon you any day. You are naive to your own fate. You never pause and realise that you were busy building a thousand contraptions on your boat. On a boat that won't survive the fall. But you never let yourself be happy. You torture yourself fearing the rocks you cannot see, hoping to build things that won't last.

Things don't last. Things definitely don't last the fall. But you build anyway. 

Numbed from the truth. Naive to the truth.