River of Gold
I was walking by the old oak tree one day,Past the young blueberry bush.
I took a peak out of the shade,
To where the soft strike of the golden sun laid.
Its warmth was inviting, it was hiding something.
So I took a peak, out of the shade.
I saw a gentle stream, glistening clear.
Its emerald shade, flared and glared.
In a flash it came, and in another it went.
It was so full of colour, and so alive.
I looked and looked, and couldn't stop looking.
Its crystal cloak, its glass of green.
So discreet, and so distinct.
It was so pure and clean,
That i happed with glee.
Then came, a striking blue,
So frail and light,
Like the tears of night.
It came and danced,
As a leaf in breeze.
Smoothly it twirled, then
Blue and green were one.
The royal waters, so majestic and full.
Yet, so small and still, along the sand.
I never saw sand so white, so fine, that diamonds hide.
It crouched below, beneath the flow,
Like precious stones, in a bowl.
What we see, is just a show.
What's important, is what's below.
I heard its call, the birds agreed.
The sound of music?
The fowl, she sings.
Her feet gently slid,
Along the marble floor.
Like quiet wind, through ivory flutes.
The river came, and the river went.
The sun it blazed, and it
glared.
The river it came,
And it stared.
Its bright gold -
I could not look.
Its colour so full, but
I could not look.
All I see, a crystal cover;
A radiant shell, elegant and good.
But I could not look.
The river it went,
Residing now, beneath the moist sand.
A hint of gold, a stint of white,
Sparingly it shined,
Its dulling hide.
I looked and looked, but could not find.
The river of jewel, and its diamond sons.
-Anonymous (Reliable sources suggest the great SPC of the 17th century)
Ah, indeed how refreshed one must be after drinking the waters of the "River of Gold". A timeless classic, I'm sure all would agree.
This poem speaks of serendipity, serenity, silence, sincerity and submission. Through the course of the entire "river", we see the casualness of nature - her everlasting elegance, how she comes and goes. Yet we feel the soothing waters embrace our feet; its gentle caress. We smile, still, at its perennial fate. After all, beauty once beheld, let it then be gone. And when she comes again, rejoice. Dwell not in sorrow when she has to leave. For in due season, again she will greet.
posted by Red @ 10:06 AM
1 comments
