Ravens, Rivers, and Red Rose Remix..⚒️

The River..

Wade in or jump , you somehow have found a place you may swim or the place you may drown..

The dark nights and the street lights, the rivers depths and its grip.. to the boundaries and our steps, here to swim... or to slip... tranquilized found floating, warm here on this leaf, from crashing walls of white waters, there is no relief. Twist and flail upwards, swept up in this rift, first light of the morning ,once again found a drift.
Settled now, its back in the flow, currents pick up, it's off to who knows... Nights divide, we continue to grow, along with this river and to where she will flow.
A day in the sun, a season in ice, joyfully hoping we won't see these scenes twice. Drifted together caught here in time, the current divides us to our own separate lines,. floating along, I can still see you right there, but you're just as illusion, a sedation of fears.

Drift ever onwards, for a time we will float, leaves as to memories float along side of this boat. We pick up speed, the scenes fly so fast, yet time slows us down with the nets that she casts.
Pondering now ..in this web where Im found, a shimmering light, the faintest of sound....Done with these rewinds, theres no play again.. a countdown count backwards. Let's all start at ten..
Cast off the lines, push off the slip. Life's got you up right,back up in her grip. crashing through rapids, fearing not death but as this river surely winds onwards, she'll surely take your last breath..
Batten down through the decades, merely more than a dent, a drift in the memory of days that were spent.
Taking on water,the chambers they close, down to the bottom.. pulled down by the nose.

Tho this river runs wild, she'll brake in the bends, shes the reaper of dreams, the steam rising, the mark, that marks this rivers end.

Towed out toward waters and the ends of it all, the steam rising up from where the old river falls.
Its all Sparkling,found drunk,run dry of the scotch. Found cut to the floor board is this man's final knotch

... bail out or go over, we all find our pace...from the rivers wild essence,and this long weary race.