Since the world is with mystery
And a whole lot in happening
Is never explained with answers known
Left to superstition to draw lines
Of assumed analogy, conclusion, regardless
Something to fit, a square in a round hole, "shapes"
A wise man is seen crossing a river
At its lowest tide with a step over, that simple
He comes back to find the river on high tide, "opened taps"
Would he swim, canoe, bridge, raft; or say
The gods have refused me passage
This river is not to be crossed, until the gods give way
Food for thought, exploring concepts
To digesting minds, pouring libations
Do not anger the gods, "dear friend"