Ways Well Worn

Thought results from sadness
      --its absence from gladness
the former as varied as types of leaves
      creates the myriad types of grief
the latter as pure as a summer breeze
      need only but please
and does
to the depths of the soul
but it plants no seed and does not grow,
but withers 
unlike the mountain brook
once set on its cause
by something so small as a pebble or ravine
quickly becomes a mountain stream
and then a river
and then it churns a course unhindered
by will,
halted momentarily
or contained,
but still,
the waters await a vengeance 
     as sure
as their own pace
and while wildflowers do surely grace 
     our presence
here and there
repulsed by our thoughts
and weary of our ways well worn
they stay aloof and seem to know
     better than we know
that their beauty is not our own