Waters Grow And Flow Toward Poem by Michael Walkerjohn

(little ole me)

Each river flows on
and on; maybe?
Aside from what
worldly concerns
is that yearn; for
thoughts as calm as
that swollen river's flow?
Experienced that flow, so long
ago, when youth still held one's
innocence as a center; of one's
essential living essence
"In the language of the heart…"
Recalling such the memories in tears
wept of silent anguish; that tomb so long
ago closed is now opened, and IAM again.
Too view, the ashes now representing the joys
and smiles of a life, that is dead and gone in
forever mores vast and unseen voids…
Mind's window, opened in this moment's
clear, is closed; it, that eyelid blink to
clear that last flowing tear and then, the
lid of memory's crypt slams too! And what normalcy
which is your time and life reappears in each angst
deep worry, uncertainty; and hurries forward to the
pinnacle of your coming daze, and into that messy
"ditch of misfortune", you once again fall. A waste
away, awash, abash; awaiting what is to become
your fate… Is placid then, the best term to pen, or
is that flaccid and not as the pen? For what worth
a moments calm might bring? Perhaps, perchance
a presumption guessed; when flaccid is that thought
of what is earned or learned, from a solemn second spent
in what once was; when compared to what it is today.
And while a blazing sunrise greets your eyes, that
felt and acknowledged experience quickly fades
into an instantly glorious sunset, for what is in-between
is not, and is unrewarding and is unclear, and how so
insane it is, that the each and every one of US has
lost their minds in every step now made throughout
each day; each step is one of less circumstance. What insight
can I offer then, to the each and every human being, that
soul exists, that thought's insist is in a better way of
living? For sure the mass of you would relate, that
this is really not enough, as our minds are thick as that
proverbial brick; and in our realities, it is only wealth made
off of others that guides our sway. For it is this contrived
and convoluted and discombobulated societal chaos that
keeps the U.S.A. in play internationally; and for this insipid
mindset; the lessor of US pay so dearly… Well anyway you roll
these figures; the stool, all stinks the same. Why should we
stoop to care about our Brothers and our Sisters and their
affairs? Those family members of the species human
from either down the block, or 12,000 miles away?
Life does move; in such similarity to, any river's flow
and calm, or flood; causality known, the causalities grow
as its body increases speed and volume, something then to
consider is that haste you each press to duty through your
efforts each daze. One conscious thought in an awakening
conscience wrought will help cut that "key"; which will unlock
the seed, to the wealth's of wisdoms and knowledge and lead
one onto that pathway that the each of you so foolishly ignore.
And you each so do most desperately need; to free your selves
from the bondage of the hades, that your minds perceive as
so bold and brave… The yearn for a world without concern
that youth carried through a lifetime's age, one's essence
full of smiles and joys, so far away from any worrisome
dirge and no forevermore of unseen voids; each and
every moment clear of uncertainty. Yet this still
continues to flee the calm at your approach and
not one step carries you across misfortunes scold. As
your thoughts both seed and reap a dazzling light and
charm as glorious, rewarding clarity persists in this; it is
your insights I do seek to raise. Therein; is now word chaotic
as chaos in, is base, is undefined, and each thought reaches out
all around this earth; finding the minds of brothers, and sisters
alike. All the while, you so do control, both speed and flow and
also calm in this very moment's awakening crease; you now see that
sought "blank key" clearly; and understand how each machined cut
will shape; and each file stroke, will hone its shape. But; that
finish pass will take more than you to fully comprehend and to
find. So be ever mindful and always cognizant of the content
of a lifetime's grow; or ebb, as each river's course does
surely change as its flow moves on toward, what is that
end that end the none, of US knows; and the only one
here upon this earth to know, is little ole me!