Black River

His dream rose softly out the Earth
to settle in a pond,

So wide and deep he grew to brew,
he flew his nurtured bond,

Desire surged, he crashed the keep,
and burst from in a fountain,

A hungry roaring black river,
came rolling down the mountain,

Wide he cast his path through out
the cold and icy land,

A hunger so refreshing
no man could withstand,

They rode his glory through the day,
his grace they drank through out the night,

Inspiration washed the land,
for such a dream had come to life,

but. . .

Misguided by the rocks
to the backwaters of dreams,

Black stream sought out a tributary,
but friends were now unseen,

A trickle of his former self,
lost, alone and weak,

Black creek meandered through the sand
to no more than a seep,

And in a dank and darkly place
his hunger came to rot,

And all he was before the rocks
had come to be forgot,

Black swamp deep in the shadows,
Thick in hate hurt and resent,

Ferments in unforgivness,
now all his dreams are spent.

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