Sometimes I see my life as a river, flowing wide and fast
Toward an endless drop.
The water rushes fastest just before the fall,
Gathering speed, quickening and
Bracing for that
Wink of a moment
When the world will shift on its axis,
When horizontal will become vertical.
After the fall-or maybe even during
The sickening earthward plummet–
The river will wonder, coolly and whitely, soft as mist,
Was there ever really another way to go?