"The wind flows on making obstacles it's lyre,
While it still learns to distinguish among the fire."

Saturday, 28 January 2012

The Innocent River

From waterheads to where they all lie sans motion,
Paths varied, all but surrender to the dead ocean.
One kissed all Earth it flowed upon, be it projecting spines,
And gently soothed away the freckled frowning forehead lines.

While all ruthlessly raced, horse like unidirectional eye,
One not hustled to horrors, reflected in heart and light all natural glory.
Assured of its feather flow, mother permits her child to play,
While wrath waters wont witness unto oceans this privileged day.

Cities sleep sound beside it, knowing it’ll never stray,
Unlike waterfilled yet thirsty rivers, swell so scare life away.
Dark high hovering tomb, brightened only by suspended snow balls
Awe inspiring to those who respond to their patterned calls.
Wind and land its lyre, its music brightens up gloomy silence through falls.

Seemingly sleeping silken soft surface, unlike others growling with rage,
Home to lively marine life within like thoughts within a yogi sage.
Assuaging like a child’s smile- the radiant inverted rainbow,
A quiet moment on its banks rejuvenates one who still has miles to go.

Like time’s own flow, slow and steady,
It moves on ever so merrily.
While others died all ‘long’ life to quench their thirst,
Too late for redemption, why they’ve all finished first.

And as one of them after ‘long’, surrenders to the eternal slumber,
Enriched with all goodwill this world offers, this- the innocent river.

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