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.
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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