The Expedition

 

Taking a moment

to find my head.

I think I lost it in

intoxicating thoughts

and dreams

sold to me

by fox-faced hawkers

who abstain

from the way we go.

 

Caught up in a tempest.

Begun a slow meander.

River in the gorge

became a master,

and I became a slave

to every rock and rapid.

My transom snapped

and taken on water.

Soon,

capsized and in distress,

not sure if I ever new

anything more,

or anything less

than destruction.

 

Feeding my mind

with open hands.

Seeking out the flavor

of a morning Sun,

a day begun

in earnest.

Behind these unwary eyes,

a haunted, hunted

shadow calls out

in the way

of mourning birds,

or laughing children,

echoing in the valley.

 

Crushed to dust.

Burned to ash.

All that remains

are base elements.

Attract

like magnetic draw

the evening

and the river,

widening out

into a broad plain.

The ocean awaits.

 

 

HG – 2022

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