Rivers of Thought
Rivers of Thought
I.
The sun has risen, but not I;
No glimmering morn arrests the eye.
No breath stirs the chest of life so earnest
That so yearned each day be as blest.
Don't look for me midst the starry sky
Whence the day relents its hold and soft we cry.
The silver moon shall wash over me
In the river where I lie.
II.
The core weeps; the breast sleeps,
The gold shimmers and sweeps.
From lily-pad to pond
The frog leaps;
Widening ripples from first a dimple.
I understand now; it was all so simple,
But life gets in the way of learning;
Midst the hunger and the yearning,
Building what feels a life
In a world that keeps turning,
And the candle keeps burning.
III.
Let illume the waking eye
Midst the clamor and strife,
Can we sort truth from lie,
Fact from fantasy,
Surreal from reality,
To question being or simply be,
Is this vessel me,
Does it need to be?
Do I really need to know
When there are such things
As beautiful as the rainbow,
Or the way Maria Callas sings?
Can I just let it be,
And just let the river
Wash over me?
EPILOGUE.
When we were younger,
We remembered things older,
Like living the life of a soldier,
Or crying while someone drifted off to sleep
And all those closely gathered round began to weep.
Death remained unfamiliar and bittersweet
And life—
Pieces of a journey—
Incomplete:
Dispersed with imagery you tried to hold on to,
But drifted ever further away from you;
Till you were much older and they'd slipp'd clean out of view.
Had we been before—
Had we been many times before?
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