High up in the mountains, the snow pack runs thin.
Down here in the foothills, the rivers rock me to sleep.

The night carried on like a stroll along the lazy river.
The beating sun made it hard not to grin
as her words rock me.  The hum of the crickets
hidden in the tall grass.  Life is all around me.
I couldn’t fight it.

The night drifted past me like a dream in the shallow end.
Where the crystal water hugs your naked toes as old friends.

As night falls over the river, the day is reborn.  I know
I must leave this world behind.  Accept it as true and pray
my memory holds.  Out into the world I go, thinking not of
the road ahead, but of what has consumed me.  How did
I move before—without this burning fever?

The cracked road seeps with failing patches beneath the
clearing sky.  Morning rides across the horizon on horseback.

Where this road will take me, I do not know. I place my trust that
The Road will direct me with good intentions.  As the hours
Before me begged only to let it be, so does the road ahead
demand.  I will not protest.  He was here long before me.
Who am I to ask him if he knows the way?

With the future behind me, the past flies before me.
My presence simply drifted beneath the midnight river.

7 March 2012