Fall

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Fall

Heading downstream soaking wet skin
Bubbling brook against bitter cold wind
At the eye opening my world began to spin
Pushed down a slippery surface till I fell in
Skies greyed and rained as mountains roared
The current offered any control to me no more
Unsettling distance from the back of branches
Confirmed emptiness in the glass of chances
Battered against the floor bed and other debris
Through rapids and waterfalls to end in the sea
Clearly futile to attempt battle at even worse weather
Unremembered, I sink, breathe, and get lost forever

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The true philosopher and the true poet are one, and a beauty, which is truth, and a truth, which is beauty, is the aim of both.

Ralph Waldo Emerson, American Poet (1803-1882)

FallenAngel1979’s Poems (2)

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Fall 0