The Secret Behind Myself
Ripple,
Ripple,
Ripple,
A man floats down the river.
Find the answers to your soul,
Discover your hearts desire in the place it all began.
I stare into the eyes of the one I should know better than all.
But I am a stranger in these lands.
I search, search out the words, the question my soul craves.
Why? How?
How can you hate yourself when you are the center?
You give relief to the thirsty, strength to the weak,
You rejuvenate the cracked, the broken.
You brighten all color, and give flavor to the bland.
You resinate life and its many forms.
Your ability to change form to fit the needs of all else and yet you harbor hate?
WHY DO YOU HATE YOURSELF?
But silence.
I see nothing.
These waters have been tainted, mislead, polluted, and defiled.
We wrap ourselves in pain, secrets, and despair like the fathers who've forgotten us.
These broken waters stare back at me,
Unwavering and unknown, eyes cut deep into me,
Its question for me is already known.
Why? Why do you wish to die?
Ripple,
Ripple,
Ripple,
These ripples turn to waves.
Splash.
The answer is clear.
A man floats down the river.
Copyright © Shelton Brown | Year Posted 2012
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