The River Runs
Spirited away into a void,
suspended in nothingness.
Moving pictures
of life flash by,
momentous moments
pause in transit,
allowing one
last celebration
of remembrance.
Instances of sorrow
smear sight,
the wretchedness tears
new holes in regret,
stamping days
that cross the soul
with melancholy.
Closing the shutters
of consciousness,
slipping into the
divine form,
swimming through
the dying river,
finally letting go
I slide into waiting arms
as Styx carries me home.
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