Poetry

Journey

As a river I run
though less certain
of purpose
I run
bearing the leaves
of endless autumns
upon my face
with what little
grace remains to me
in this age and the
stones some larger force
deemed fit for my way
bend me
Gifting me speech
as I dutifully
wash them
and I have heard
of a great sea
awaiting me
where all the tears
of a million years
have become one
and my own
will be welcomed
So as a river I run
through sunny days
and moon fattened nights
when no one’s looking
but the sky
I run

Categories: Poetry

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