Loner By The River

On the slopes by the river amongst tall bushes a loner sits, where the sun shines under cloud canopy to soften the heat. I have come by the river to float my dreams and when the daylight wane will be carried far into the distance. I sit amongst the tall bushes and fern mosses, watching as the waters drift in symphony to the gentle breeze.

Silence is gathering momentum for I can hear the buzzing of a floating bee, I can feel rumblings underneath my feet; the ants are with manual labor building little files, and birds are with lesser labor of singing on tree tops. My poet soul delight to see such wonders, to sing in words the beauty of eternal harmony.

Flock of crown cranes are flying above, homesick but moving forward to the endless horizon. Their homes may rest in the mountains and thus far they have gone, in the voyage that lead them ever on; while September rain clouds hang low with it’s burden of unshed showers, awaiting the moment to burst forth in relief.

I dive into the depth of the flowing river, hoping to get the perfect feeling of peace. To be temporarily free from the heat of this weather beaten track. Days seem long when they pass by slowly and to rest in the deep of this mystic waters, where all the strain of string, of harp, swell into hunting music that will take over my life.

I finally give up the helm because it’s time for surrender and what there is to do will be instantly done. Vain was my struggle and as I take away my hands and silently put up with defeat; my heart feels that good fortune come seamlessly when many things are dropped.

From the blue sky it seem eyes are gazing on me, with summon that seem clear. At ease I was not even aware the moment I crossed out of the threshold of human life into the realm of the animist. What was the power that made me open out into this vast mystery like a bud in the forest awakened to the moonlight.

The demands of this world, if not sorted out early will reach a point they overwhelm you. Youth is the time for sorting out and never the time to squander in recklessness. The heart will bleed and every muscle ache with strain when what should have been done was left undone. The river coils from little springs and the autumn leaves that fall give way to new blooms.

Stars will be revealed when the night covers, the plaintive note of the twilight will have been struck and the brilliance will become clear. At this point we do our parting you and I. The path that lay ahead for me is beautiful and I will get there! Ask me not when I will get there, for I started on this journey with empty hands and expectant heart.

I have got to leave, dear friend! To bid farewell_ I greet you with my heart. Here!_ I give back the reed I plucked. Here!_ I give back the pebble I took. I only ask one kind word which I hear from the murmur of the stream and the whisper in the wind. You have been a companion for long, and I took more than I gave. But take this devotion as an offering.

All that I am, that I have, that I hope, have ever flowed towards the endless current. No more noisy loud words from me, henceforth I deal in whispers, the speech of my heart will be carried on through my action. The river has its everyday work to do and so do I, we both hasten through fields and hamlets, through incessant throes to become the purification of every land and heart.

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