This sacred stream that flows by mystery,
where many had their pans filled,
there where many swims and are dried by folly.
where their pleasures occupy as madness,
yet i see no stream.
i see no flowing river,
All i see is wet sands
All i know is cowards pleasure,
the lazy's Harvest.
Who shall by hands lead me
to this sacred stream to swim?
The sacred stream to have my pan filled,
the sacred stream of wisdom and folly,
that flow with madness
and dark hoverings upon it.
The sacred stream of dark sayings,
Where i will feel the burdens of the gone before.
Who shall lead me?
Comments about this poem (Sacred Stream by micheal john )
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