Divine embers illuminate the rotting sun stripes
Shining down against the pale patronage of trodden moss
Entangled beneath the shattered face and wraps around the rivers bend
And gorges itself on the pebbled trail that crescendo rings by growing stone
Laid by night and day the frail men who earned a pittance and suffer the same
Paved the way for ambitious men whose curvature gives them pass
By sheath and saddle of foul, of steed, stallion, and sacrifice
From up the way where the grass does crease, draped in sapphire satin pleats
Where water wash the overflow, of dazzling scarlet undertones
Diffracting a brilliant whisper through the meadows and bending stems under throes
The snaking of a haunting breeze suffocates the boldest beasts
The subterranean systems whipping silt twists this flattered path
Craning against the wicker bark, stone and shard caress the mast
And carry splintered serenity shaved down to the soot at last
The rise of sparks and oxygen ignite the way for weary pass
Stone is overthrown and carried undertow towards and onwards its mark, unknown
A poem, a visceral poem, a misunderstood poem. But a poem, nonetheless.
We travel as the river travels, we encounter pain, and lay our path to travel - we occasionally neglect glory for the flow, and there is beauty in that, every now and again.
I hope you have a great day / night, wherever you are.
Mathieu
