A river flows along it’s path,
o’er rocks and logs, whatever else,
to slowly slip along through
shallows deep;
to keep - within it’s banks, or mostly so -
the flow…
A soundless scene,
serene…
But so much more it seems, is seen, above
the coal black shine;
the underside unknown...
Those silent cries from down below
go by without a nod -
a nothingness…
The glassy, dark and distant depths
will hide it’s soul,
It’s voice to tell
of rivers past and silent storms,
of memories – both good and bad -
of life the way it was…
No sparkling sunlight reaches down
to warm the heart;
To bring alive desires new,
no beauty’s touch can reach the other side,
an ugliness that permates,
will draw all eyes away from nature’s rush,
a hush…
Just blustery skies reflecting hues of gray
As consciousness just slips away…
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