River of Doubt

Chasing dreams for memories, with bold stroke, eyes are set toward an uncertain goal that launches souls afloat down a river never traveled. A river of doubt. Under the dark forest canopy the cacophony of natures symphony is unusually silent. Only imaginations din rings in the ears and pings the hearts. It’s an unuttered presage taming hubris with its humbling message. On the liquid canvas are featureless sketches of nature above, giving no perspective, setting moods colored pensive. Still, sinewy shoulders labor, steadily pushing and pulling crafted trees down the river never traveled. Its direction, depth, length, peril, all unknown. It is a river of doubt. Days into weeks, weeks into months— becomes an odyssey of self-discovery. Every rounded bend dispatches hope, challenges mettle. It is a clash of wills that can raze confidence and give rise to doubt. For what is the purpose? Is the end the goal? Or is it the journey? For without a survey The way travelled becomes as watery fingerprints erased by the shores. Yet, only survivors can tell their own story. When strength wanes, frames become frail, and wakes weaken as souls contemplate The end. Yet, deep in the interior is a gnawing hunger yoked to a goal: expend youthful vigor, leave nothing for the age of decline, for only the intrepid will live many lifetimes. No one is ever lost on the river never traveled. If braved, discovery becomes a tributary to understanding that the river flowing under a dark canopy must give way to light. Then the memory will seem but a dream.