Keep Moving, Keep Changing – a poem

Who knew that clouds pass over
only to return so frequently –
a constant state of motion
only when the wind blows?

Who knew that scum gathers
in pond water; its slime slippery,
spotted with rot on both
dark and sunny days?

Who knew that inertia
holds the key to living,
and dying,
in the utmost subtle way?

I didn’t know, but
now I do. Do you?

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