The river has songs to fill every season. I turn with the circles, swimming the wind that chases the water, bending around the curves, following the changes in tempo and depth, bound to the ripples that radiate from every slight disturbance of the surface. Looking for the most efficient path.
I construct imaginary boats and then dismantle them, leaving the remains dashed and forgotten on the farthest shores. The river continues, reflecting the sky’s transformations, a window opening into the changing light.
Stilled, I try to capture the current as it passes by, to fill my pockets with the riddles it holds inside its voice, all the wisdom gathered from its ancient repeated journeys. I want to be cleansed of all the outside forces that try to bind me, to find again the center hidden somewhere inside that keeps escaping my grasp. But I am too far, too long, too hindered by my own noise. I have lost the lines and the point of the contents of my brain.
Let it go the river sings.
Not anything. But.
And this too. What seems.
To be. There. You are.
Brendan’s challenge prompt of rivers at earthweal brought to mind another recent post, consecration, that featured John Haitt’s title song as it’s coda. It, too, included the weekly words from Jane’s Oracle 2 generator.
And of course I can never have too much of John Haitt’s song.