Passing Time Art

Passing time
Now, we’ll all have our time on the rapid And we may end together, alone, going ‘round and about in an eddy bruised and broken and soaked to the bone. But the eddy keeps silent the wild current’s call alongside those now grateful captains and all we are given reprieve from a death at the fall as we move to and fro’ in the spin. We stand safe, as the spin takes us in.
An indoor scene in a grocery store. A mother squats down to help her little girl, who is crying and making a fuss. Shoppers are passing by and an employee stands off to the side wearing an apron. The lighting is focused on the little girl. Mom is about to be embarrassed.
Now, those captains must learn what the river will do when it makes that great turn out of sight. How it dashes them up on the rocks of the shore How it spins to the left and the right. It beats them and breaks them and crushes their pride Leaves them dizzy and sick and all jumbled inside ‘til they’ve all but forgotten that glorious ride lying flat on their deck in the sun. There they lie, drying out in the sun. As you round the point where the river was bent and survey the great wideness ahead, you can see all those captains alone on their decks, beat and broken and very near dead. Then the current takes hold and there’s naught you can do as it drags you down into its maw. Headed straight for those rocks, you make ready to crash but at last, you rise up, roll and yaw. Going back and away, then forward again, fearing each time, the rocks will prevail! You’re trapped in a cycling, circling tide, in an eddy withstanding a gale. But each time you circle that great whirling tide and you’ve not hit the rocks or been thrown to the side and you’re kept from the falls, cascading and wide, for the eddy’s small mercy give praise. Give the merciful currents your praise!
Out where the river runs wild and free and only the brave dare row; where the rapids are deep, and the challenge is fresh and it takes them where it means to go. With breakneck speed, grinning into the wind, standing straight on the bow of their craft, just a glimpse now and then of those captains you’ll catch flying by, near capsizing your raft. They’ve no time for advice to those standing on shore or to aid the ones just wading out, for their task is to pilot this current, they think, and it’s all they can do to stay out of the drink, and their lives could be gone in the space of a wink should they lose but a moment to doubt. Standing tall, they never must doubt!
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