Wet or Dry

I don’t cling to memory.
I sacrefice memory for rest,
And for courageous action.
My posture, not quite Eve,
A different Age.
Textures inevitably change,
Carving a riverbed, memory,
Now dry, preserved.
I disconnect.
Who is the mentor?
What kind of teacher,
Is a riverbed?
Never wet or dry!

It has been five minutes. Thank you ever so bever so much.