The Rivers of a Life

Art from Google

The Rivers of a Life …

Bracing for the rapids ahead, clutching onto filaments where salty tears sting the places we have bled.

Hold on!

The rapids will stutter to a meandering stream, our brittle souls heaving sighs of relief as a glimpse of hope waltzes on a sunbeam.

Hold on tight!

The stream opens itself up, slipping into the wide waters of the river at peace, soothing our beings, the stabbing pain now beginning to cease.

Let go!

The mouth of the river yawns as it approaches the endless expanse of the sea, hushing us, stilled by knowing we are but an infinitesimal part of what we thought we could be.

Free at last!

beyond us the unseen future, right now we soak in the truths of the present,

behind us we leave the detritus of the past.

Artwork from Google

the river rolls …

neither here nor there …

traversing the meandering bylanes of life

tears fall
through the cauldron of strife

memories like jagged shards of sorrow,

embedded
hewn

into a torrent of emotion

flow on
               and on

cascading over raw wounds

                reaching without
                seeking
peace
                within

clinging onto
filaments of hope

while hollow words

crawl
fade

mope

slinking away to settle
           on tattered scrolls

while life persists,

so long as the river rolls…

                 

Port of Call – a re-post of one of Scribbler’s favourite scribbles

Port of Call

…
…

Barefoot on a talcum beach,

alone, not lonely,

with the breath of the ocean a caressing balm,

soothing pained memories away,

to the swaying of a solitary palm.

…

Barefoot on a talcum beach,

alone, not lonely,

feeling the brushing away of all past turmoil,

on a quest for solace,

ever so hard to find,

yet comforted by the crashing of the waves,

as the tide cleanses all pain,

and leaves despair far, far behind.

…

Barefoot on a talcum beach,

alone, not lonely,

drenched in a sea-breeze of mist,

that hushes the ache of bygone moons,

tasting the salty tang on my lips,

as the burnished sun,

over the distant horizon,
swoons,

and dips.

…

Barefoot on a talcum beach,

alone, not lonely,

searching, ever searching,

for a slice of solitude,

as memory bids a final adieu,

reaching under the sea so vast,

and seeking comfort in the depths,

while embracing,

the tomorrows to come,

wishing that they be true.

…

Barefoot on a talcum beach,

alone, not lonely,

seeing my truths drown,

as they slip beneath the turquoise waters,

feeling my heart ablaze,

with a passion that rarely falters.

…

Barefoot on a talcum beach,

alone, not lonely,

yet knowing that I am home at long last,

wishing the waves would wash away,

the defences that once stood,

like an impregnable wall.

…

Barefoot on a talcum beach,

alone, not lonely,

I have found, at long last,

my final port of call.