Shore Of The River

Shore Of The River
© Surazeus
2019 01 22

No matter where I go in the wide world
of rugged mountains and desolate plains,
I always return to shore of the river
that flows from empty sky to the full sea.

The sky sends water in the silver rain
to sing in splashes of delightful hope
which fill the mirrors of my dreaming eyes
with visions of transformative desire.

Aching from stringent horror of the desert,
where I crawl in glare of the mocking sun
till all illusions of my grand importance
are stripped away, I find the singing stream.

What is sweet essence of this sparkling water
that collects from fragments of the silver sky
which revives animation of my soul
when I consume flashing light with my flesh?

Without water my body will dissolve
to flickering fragments of dust particles
that constitute completeness of my soul
when liquid molds them into my strange form.

I cup my hands and dip them in the stream
while kneeling on muddy shore of the river
to peer close at transparent fluid flash
which beams sharp rays of light into my eyes.

What is this fluidity of desire
which animates quick motions of my body
so I run quicker on wings of the wind
to hunt the animal I need to eat?

No matter where I go in world of forms,
exploring secret corners of its curves,
I always return to shore of the river
to drink the sunlight in the flashing water.