I write to navigate the river

What if instead of a split road in a trodden forest - "a road diverged in a wood" - our incessant journey is more like a river? 

Led along and guided by the pulses of our hearts

The ripples they fabricate are what lead us left or right - wrong or right

And who is to say that the direction called "right" is the right choice because it is rightly corresponded with the word for "correct?"

Maybe you should hope with all your pulsing and rippling heart that the boat leans left 

It may have a stronger current 

It surely seems to be the stream less traveled

Yet, what if our hearts, in all their fickle and indecisive strength were somehow overpowered by a dominant function higher north: the mind?

What if our poisonous minds, with all of their conceptualized ideas and cynical realities are the main source of disturbance in our rivers?

How then, are we supposed to configure which bodily organ is the devil on our shoulders?

Which one is fooling us more? 

Maybe if we could unravel this enigma, it would be simpler to know which choice to make

The indecisiveness would vanish

But another drawback of being an unfortunate human- 

with these eyes of mine, I can only see the things on the outside

The one thing that I need to see - 

that I desperately desire and impossibly wish for -

to see inside myself -

is hopeless

All I have is a river full of sticks and rocks

All I have is indecisiveness

And hazy ideas and wishes

And foggy dreams

But I want to turn them clear as the sparkling water

And let them thrive.