My River

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?

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