The Creek

There is a creek on the edge of the woods
That trickles its words of wisdom and good
In the ears of those who search on for a meaning
But to them it is fruitless, always repeating
Surrounded by trees and burs and hedges
The creek is protected from all the hurt felt throughout the ages
A broken childhood
A meaningless existence
A caterpillar in a world of butterflies
And yet the creek continues to feed these lost and broken minds
That are all alone
Who have gone astray
Calling out in the darkness of the day
But as the creek trickles its powerful words
They turn back around
Out of the woods

- donya akhavon