Pauldrons of light cascade from this divine river.
It creeps and carves the landscape into poppy fields of farmers gold.
In a trigger of dusted measured memory.
I do find solace, if only temporary.
The break is swift and clean.
I find no blame to be given that is not my own.
I try to comfort the group standing ear to ear on rivers shore.
The breath I hear is not my own.
I feel uncomfortable and crowded.
I stand still, my breath sounds in nearest ear.
I'm sure it's has quickened, and surely will be noticed.
I feel that a push at any moment would cause a stumble out,
and into the unknown river of which I stand so near.
In this river no one swims for long.
I've never seen a head bob up to gasp.
Even a last breath is never taken, or perhaps given.
Life is question, on every breath, spoken,
unspoken and quickly,easily forgotten too.
I forget, if it allows life to grow inside.
You tell me.
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