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A RIVER WALK TO UNDERSTANDING - OR WAITING THE TIDE THAT NEVER COMES

Poetry By: donkylemore
Poetry


THE COURSE OF LIFE ; FROM THE RAINDROP
TO RIVULET
TO STREAM TO GROWTH
AND DEATH AND LIFE CONVERGING IN A CONFLUENCE
**********************************************
OR MORE PESSIMISTICALLY - JUST LOOKING OUT TO SEA
FOR A TIDE THAT WILL NEVER COME
TO LIFT YOUR STRANDED BOAT


Submitted:Sep 10, 2008    Reads: 130    Comments: 4    Likes: 2   


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Where that long and wistful journey brings one;
To a place of silent souls dreaming
On verdant banks of the river of life; and the stories and lore
Are a boat stranded on a beach
Waiting for a tide; that will never come;
A bird song unheard in the heather;
Above the bank on an Easter dawn;
A voice unexpressed, or unarticulated;
Yet the force draws one in inexorably
As if in to a black hole ,
Bending light and the timelessness of imagination,
But shackled bodily between
The capstan and the bollard f ones life span
The confluence of the confines
We find in the corporal world; the finite world ;
And here for all of us the temporal
And spiritual worlds intersect
In two mystical rainbows of gentle confusion
An impenetrable beauty sits unseen but aching to be understood
Here is the stage , silent before the performance,
Only the quiver of the curtain under the footlights
Give the smallest suggestion of the players in painted masks
With palpitating anticipation frozen
On the stage , as the refrain drifts in
Over the settling audience.
Here everything we want to know and understand
in a piercing vividness ,
Behind the veils which one by one part until death
And maybe then we can see the clarity
Of all existences, the passions appeased
The rejection requited,
The anger soothed into foolishness
Unworthy of the ferocity or endeavour
We apply in yielding to it, by vexation.
To the carnage of the battlefield;
Lust brushed aside with a swan's wing
In the truth of love beauty. splendor .

Beyond the dreamers sight the river bends and curves
The walker near the estuary hears the tide draw
On the stones and the death throes rattle in the undertow,
Then the open sudden vastness of the ocean opens before him
. Another passes on another is borne.
The sun soothes the sea ,
And draws up clouds to where the gannet soars
The cloud to mistthey turn ,and the mist to rain.
A rain which fall gently on the fields,
And again the rivulets form
As the pulse of the cosmos throbs
And the earth turns from one season to the next
And the river flows again beneath the banks
Where other souls are now dreaming.





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