The Small Rivulet

The small rivulet, it flows and flows,

meandering through dense forests,

the burbling sound echoing across the horizon,

its route decided meticulously by the brush strokes,

the rocky crevices punctuated beautifully with imaginative colors, 

caressing them lovingly, as the tip journeyed on and on,

on the flat of a neat and white drawing paper.

Dear river, as the fingertips, patiently carves,

carves a way out for you, in the blank white sheet,

do I too, search for a destination, a permanent station, 

for my bubbling thoughts, too many of them,

in those twists and turns, in those nooks and crannies,

in those black and white and colored facets,

that my mind keeps creating,

as I paint on, thinking, searching.

***