The River Is Not Waiting

You wake up thinking the world is stable.
That the road you walked yesterday is the same today.
But it is not.
The stones have shifted.
The air has turned.
And you are not who you were.

This is not a failure of reality.
It is its law.

The river is never the same.
And neither are you.
To resist this is to drown
while trying to hold water still.

Let it move.
Let yourself be carried.

You are not the bank.
You are the current.

Do not fear conflict.
The bow only sings because it is drawn.
The fire only reveals by burning.

Harmony is not peace.
It is struggle held in balance.

Opposites do not cancel.
They create.

You ask what is true.
But truth is not a shape.
It is a spark leaping between things.

Between silence and speech,
between birth and decay,
between the moment before a decision
and the one after.

The path to wisdom is not smooth.
It is sharp.
It is narrow.
It turns when you expect it to go straight.

This is how the world speaks:
in riddles.
In reversals.
In fire that changes you.

Do not look for answers.
Look for the place where things meet and resist.
That is where the hidden law lives.

The world is not waiting to be solved.
It is waiting to be endured,
and seen,
as it burns and renews itself
in you.