Author Information
The River
The river runs slow today
As do my thoughts.
Continents of ice collide and separate
over a grey green field of quiet water.
Snow falls at random.
Flakes swirl or streak as god wills
as uncontrolled as my thoughts
White pin holes in a grey and formless day.
I rage at self inflicted wounds.
Afflicted with terminal incompleteness.
I Feel the cold of an empty being.
Yet also the warm solitude of self.
I sense the labyrinth that leads to clarity
Bringing flowers to Algernon; joyfully.
The river runs slow today
As does my life
As do my thoughts
thankfully.
