The River - Poetry
Updated: Jun 3
I wander through this tepid haze,
Where mountains high surround.
Trying to break this endless maze,
Within my immortal soul is bound.
Entering into a forest thick,
Into the shadows of the trees.
What need have I to move as quick?
I let them bring me to my knees.
The wind blows around my head:
Howling gales run through my hair,
Awakening what I thought was dead,
Sweeping cobwebs from the corners there.
Then whence I came across a stream,
Where the waters of dark river flow,
Each gurgled breath a silent scream:
The last of whose I do not know.
And now I feel it in my bones:
The calm cold river rolling.
If I were to fall just like those stones…
Or perhaps I just keep strolling.
But why am I this tempted so?
Because I feel that all is said and done.
Now I watch the melting snow,
Down to the river I will run.
I feel the dampness as I wade,
Soaking away sins of the past.
Closing my eyes, all seems to fade,
And I take the breath that is my last.
All moves on without one soul,
Attracted only thither.
But they must go where I must go:
The wind, the wood, the river.