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The River
Self-emptying,
the stream creates itself
and in the act of dying,
gifts its ponderous deep
with such a restive peace
that there is drama in demise,
the flight of years assuaged,
a lifetime fed
with just a single cause.
The sojourner
who pauses at the water's edge
will see pretension vanish,
see it carried on
the surface of the river,
sweeping by each obstacle
like yesterday's detritus
on its questing path through history
to the unknown.
It is a run
to mock the flight of years
and no assumptions can be made
until the evidence is in...
the sea spreads wide its arms,
the river, alpha to omega
sleeps.
~
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