touch

The river
    touches mountain and sound
for millenia flowing
    wild and free
    confined to its ribbon bed

is this water
        one with the glacier
        one with the delta
    or separate different
        is light a wave
        am I the one soul
                who at birth
                who at death
                who now breathes
            freely chooses
                the forged path I walk
        does history forge me
            or do I walk apart
            clean my dishes
                sing my song
    perhaps yes and no

the river roars its answers
    knowing not these questions
    for millenia flowing
    wild and free.

Posted in Poetry and tagged .

3 Comments

  1. I like the contrasts – wild and free, yet confines; one with, yet separate; one at both birth and death, etc.

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