The River Sings

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The breath inside the breath

On the strings of a heart guitar

And a whisper and a tune

Riding the waves

This thought stream flows

Enchanting seductress this
A moth to the flame

The emptiness of words

Futile attempts to peer into words
When there's not even nothing there

The harder one tries to slip through the holes
Of the fishing net

Entangling oneself
Even more

It's an empty net of jewels

Even as a sublime melancholy
Rides a fading tiger
Into the sunset

Emptiness sings

And life dances on a moonbeam
A will-o'-the-wisp
Endlessly spinning stories
Out of stories

Sheer delight

For no reason
Nor rhyme

The bird with you
The wing with me

So we began
So will we end

I in you
You in me

This has nothing to do
With good and bad
Acceptance or rejection

This sense of self

Entirely constructed out of ideas

Formed out of beliefs and images

Albeit newer and shinier ones even

And one sits and finds joy and laughter
In the midst of it all
Even in tears

And the stranglehold only tightens the noose

As all attempts to be

This perfect person
Smelling of lavender

Of impeachable virtue
Of perfect love
Of perfect knowledge
With perfect emotions

Even in the view
That there's an enlightened person

Like a certificate of some fangled pedigree

At the same time funny
And simultaneously sad

Looking for paradise
In some ethereal realms

When it's slam dunk
In the middle
Of this messiness
Of birth and death

Unicorn and all

Did you see that horn...

What reality would you chase
And which illusion leave behind...

A fleeting flowing tapestry
This transiency

Not looking for eternity


Just the sheer joy

Of floating on by

The river sings


Art by Didier Delamonica