Seems to me That our lives Are like streams. Across the surface, bright, and shiny, Float the colourful leaves, Adding bits of beauty. But it’s what’s underneath That makes our lives what they are: The colours of the fishes, dimly glimpsed As they move with the currents of our thoughts And shape our ideas, our responses, and our days. When the water of our life-streams is clear, Life is happy. Muddied and murky waters Cause us trouble, and worry. I wish all of us could always have Pretty streams of consciousness. But happiness, serenity, illness and rough water Randomly fall to our lots, sometimes.