River Side Ruminations

A plant with holes,
Half a fence
In a pitiful attempt of fencing same from same.
(Maybe it’s art?)

A water
Flowing, close to me, but I don’t hear it.
I don’t know whether it’s standing or gushing;
Whether it wants to speak to me of peace or of chaos.

A purple flower of mystical scent
The imagination of which tickles my nose
- Mediterranean glory.

Leavy arms leaning against the brushes of the wind
Freedom - in fact - :
A firm, gentle hold.

A moment of peace, the absence of all the rest
Then, lingering, a sense of threat
In front of me, in the future, somewhat unreal.

Now, a pinch of sadness
For finding myself in Moloch’s grip;
Lost
In a maze of words and no purpose,
And I wonder why I’m here, or when I chose to go there - if at all.

Maybe those hyperbolic songs,
Were not so hyperbolic after all,
Just normal sampling.
Sad pitiful paradoxical human existence;
Or mere storytelling?

And then I dive back into peace
- plant, water, flower, tree -
A song of freedom and revolution.
It’s time to take the inevitable step;

Toward the dreading next scene,
Toward where the rhythm of the song takes me.
Now with peace by my side
And the absence of all the rest.

Wish me luck,
Since luck I will need.