There was a time, once, when
the most everything was metaphorical.
That was before the great metamorphosis
when everything was suddenly malleable.
No one was quite certain just what happened.
Most thought it was in the dead of night
when they, and most everyone else was
firmly in the grip of Morpheus, who was,
all knew, a shape shifter given easily
to change, a chameleon who relished
the amazement of people who
never could hope to see change coming.
When the clouds that foretold the future
were finally carried off, replaced
by the harsh light of the sun.
Then it all became clear,
the River flowed again, and
you stepped in knowing
it was a step you could never take again,
and at that moment the Buddha smiled.