Each collection of words is bottled up in a colored glass,
sealed with a cork,
and sent down the stream.
The jars of
red, green, purple, blue,
float away with the current,
maneuvering around rocks
and surfing through rapids.
One or two may break,
letting water intermingle with the paper and ink,
slowing erasing the message,
leaving shining glimpses of color in the darkness.
One may get trapped,
lodged between fallen branches,
and never opened.
Two might be lucky,
and found downstream by seeking eyes.
The words written,
intimately shared from one stranger to another,
leave traces of humanity
absorbed in the skin of their fingertips.
So It Goes 