The River Flows

                                                                                   Holy Meets New ~ Philip Brent Harris

~~~~~

Watching the river flow,
Standing on the bridge
In the shank of night.
A half-forgotten moon
Casting the only light.
Yet, as the moon merges
With distant mountains,
The stars above blaze,
Full of moments, stories.

Not only our myths,
Legends we would guard,
But myths and legends
Of distant civilizations.
Places and races we must
Know are as real as ours.
We want them, shun them.
Might they help us, will
They condemn us, a hard
Judgement we deserve?

Where lies madness,
If not in truth, beauty,
Our ability to grow
Despite our insanity?
We all still feel
And imagine love,
Not only Eros and Philia,
Storge and Philautia,
But also Agape.

Whether we hold
Deity separate and sacred
Or a shade carried in,
Called from our carapace,
This will represent us.
All the best and worst
Of which we are capable.
Bracketing the interstices
Which contain us
Somewhere between.

Like the river rushing,
Or slipping silently
Between its banks,
We flow onward.
Into the darkest night,
Most glorious dawn,
We ignore or acknowledge
This may be the moment
We will cease to know.

And whether we trudge on,
Triumph or succumb,
We all flow
Into the same sea
One day and again.
Each drop no different
Than the river and the rain
Falling into, rising from
Our vast celestial sea.

~~~~~

Peace is Purpose, Nonviolence is Strength, Diversity is Unity, Empathy is Empowerment

~~~~~

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