Until The River Dries

A river, meandering lazily, wandering, wondering,
Wishing it's life away on silly pebble stones,
Delicately sucking dry, the muddy water, carving melancholy
Into shards of angry sand, scenting pathways, gullies,
Tributaries through ancient land, sniffing lines of
Salt, addicted to the mad delusions of Sea.

Slow rivers dream floodwater, rain brings speed, brings
Resolution to the dilemma of stagnated pools;
Lost hopes, lost thoughts, become translated into
Last ditch attempts at the revolution of a rivers soul.

Do Salmon really swim all the way home?
Lay eggs in the place where they hatched, where they were born?

If a heron stands still until the end of Time will
He catch a glimpse of God swimming naked, pregnant,
His belly full, His children safe, His life ebbing until,
He spawns?

The patience of a hunting bird is only matched on this river by,
A Man, standing still, His eye reflecting the waterfall of His tears,
Flowing beautifully in concentric circles,
until the river dries,
or the ocean nears.