The River

I once journeyed upon an empty path,

An tortuous road by a fleeting river,

Whose relentless babbles of bygones wrath

Gave no remembrance, but a raw shiver.

Among the path greeted treaded roots, with

Treacherous imprints under the falling

Sun’s glare. The river continued to writhe

And froth, sputter non-sense sick appalling.

But still I remained steadfast in my stride,

Lest Fear hears itself in my racing pulse.

For as long as I walk, the stream shall chide

Loud indifference, enmity, and repulse.

Since I know well the end will near, upon

A hill over-looking past, winding dawns.


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