I Follow
The river swiftly swayed through the forest.
For many years I’ve rowed this hollowed log,
followed every crease and bend,
through white sands and murky stills.
And it seems I have forgotten why.
I look to the shoreline and fantasize,
to beach, and sleep with the snug, serene grass,
my toes wrapped in the blanket sand,
but the current leads me downstream.
Who am I, to bout what nature says?
I am man, on the immortal river.
Sorry, but I can’t make south rotate north,
I shall stay a pawn, a paddler,
floating down, broken oar in hand.
And now, I am all but remembered.
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