just dust...

The existential quirkiness of life,
is hard to figure out or answer.
Yet we meander through,
Like a pebble rippling in water,
The ups and downs like a valley,
When it rains the river rushes through,
Slowly eroding the hard rocky sides.
When its dry the river thinly wavers,
Tapering through the edges with wetness.
The wetness evaporates 
But the erosion remains,
Slowly clawed after every flood.
The bleak periods in between a reprieve,
Only to hide the uncertainty that's hidden.
See-saw of this tempering river,
hard to know by some,
While other tries to get a hold of it,
to make it neutral.
The erosion so deep leaves a mark,
That no eraser can change whats left behind.
The true state of edges eroded is dependent
On the temperament of the river.
It gives you a splashy thrill but mostly
It gives a grisly fright that makes you realize,
The only thing certain is that even this valley
One day would become just dust,
By becoming one with the river 
That decides its destiny and fate.