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I am tired.

And I know—we are all tired.

Not of life itself,

but of what man has made of life—

the noise, the politics, the power plays,

the sick cycle of despair spinning endlessly.

I’m tired of being kind.

Of being compassionate.

Of always trying to be good.

The noise is deafening,

the race relentless,

the pressure to be more and have more—an incurable addiction.

I am tired of fighting to make things better.

Tired of loving more, forgiving more, giving more.

Tired of walking through a world

that pushes me forward with empty causes,

measures me by shallow standards,

judges me by masks and mirrors.

I am weary. Beaten.

So I walk through the river.

I sit beside it.

Exhausted, I follow the currents—

into forests, along mountain slopes—

To rest.

To seek refuge.

To be comforted.

I walk through the river

to be healed by the songs of the wind,

the stories told by flowing water,

the whispers etched in rocks and boulders.

I’m not alone.

The fish swim against the current—

struggling, yes,

but still alive, still meaningful.

They live, they give,

even in their final surrender to the earth.

Walking through the river,

I feel held by Life—not crushed by it.

A life too deep to measure,

too soft to hold—

like the cold water slipping through my fingers.

In the river,

I carry my dreams, barefoot.

A drifter. A wanderer.

And yet, somehow,

still belonging. Still connected.

I am tired of walking through Life.

Of people.

Of events.

Of ambition and greed.

So I walk through the river.

I hold the roots of trees along the banks,

easing my way through soft, silty soil,

pausing when I must,

moving only when I’m ready.

Unlike the world of men,

the river is strong, yes—

but it does not take.

It does not demand.

It does not beg nor break

the cautious traveler.

And so I allow myself to be carried—

washed anew by its waters,

my aging body cradled by the current,

my spirit reassured

that even if the sea is still far ahead,

there is hope in every step.

I am tired of Life.

Not of living—

but of the senseless deaths and dying

So I walk through the river—

where I can simply be.

Where everything is just is -  

Where everything is Life.

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Before you go - 

Find Your River -

"We can never obtain peace in the outer world until we make peace with ourselves.” — Dalai Lama