An Old Frog

An old frog Once I was a human, Now i am a frog sitting on the edge of a pond, gazing simply with eyes with eyeless muse, ripple one after another, One is falling to the chest of naught and another is rising to fall, One is dying and another moving to die taking the source from the dying spark. Wave from theunknown point, from shoreless Deepness surging to die to roundish stillness. The old pond with new and eternally new surge, The beginning and the end and the flow of restless tide only falsify the search, An Old pond and a frog sitting careless for nothing to earn. Wave one on another is rising to fall and falling​ to rise.