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Waterfall

The struggle

By John HowlandPublished 3 years ago 1 min read
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It is a waterfall –

that life of which beheld

the cruelest forms

of strife, saw felled

like stones unknowing

under the flood

and tumult of seas,

unrelenting

in the mud

and roaring fits.

Cold thunder birthed

by walking winter’s end:

melted mirth,

drenched souls of men

when driven from the storm,

cut and hewn

in chaotic form.

Called there ever in unsung name,

weathered deeply by the claim

of driven force’s lofty height,

is man long bound by its might.

Far past were days now fewer

when breadth of reach was newer,

and youthful gleams in silent wonder

kept each trial neatly sundered.

The fall has fully taken hold

of this old soul no longer bold

in making conjured hopes of life

to break from suffering and strife.

Will one man’s dream be broken clear?

Lest he remember, in his fear

the hope that once brought with it light:

a promised end to his night.

nature poetry
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About the Creator

John Howland

Just a man who loves the simple things in life: Mountains, music, poetry, photography, and coffee...definitely coffee. Hold on scratch that, now I sound like a hipster.

I hope my words and photos can help inspire your creativity, enjoy!

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