River of Time
Life flows on.
A river of time.
We float along,
no rhythm nor rhyme.
Along the way,
are islands of hope.
We land, we leave,
blindly we grope.
Islands of love,
islands of lust.
Whirlpools of hate,
avoid these we must.
We flow alone,
on this river of time.
No sense of reason,
nor rhythm nor rhyme.
We cannot land,
we cannot wait.
We can be early,
we cannot be late.
The river runs faster,
as we near our time.
No more islands,
life isn’t fine.
We are but single ships,
passing in the night.
We join other ships,
we hope they’re right.
We can't see,
what’s around the bend.
It doesn’t matter,
in the end.
We find our ships,
alone at last.
Nothing to hold on to,
nothing to make fast.
This river of time,
we float alone.
Down we go,
we float alone.
ã 9/9/2006 by Fred Alvis
Webmaster: Thurman P. Woodfork
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