If time for me is like a river
Then I think it is a mighty river,
An Orinoco, Amazon,
Or Mississippi, broad and slow,
With shifting channels, sweeping
Bends, peaceful bays.
Because my river’s dark and deep,
Its contents stay a mystery
I only guess by what I feel
Beneath my feet
And tales I hear at night
Before I sleep.
Sometimes for days
I may not see the shores
Or other sails adrift with me;
And where its flow expires,
Where the voyage ends,
I cannot say,
But know that as I travel
I journey on a way
That I was born for,
A way that is as natural for me
As leaping for the salmon,
The whale road for the whale.
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This issue appears in the ezine at www.pencilstubs.com and also in the blog www.pencilstubs.net with the capability of adding comments at the latter.
