Raging River: A Poem


Raging River

Deep in the forest, a river is raging
It’s not waiting for an audience, lighting or staging

It’s current swirls, proudly turbulent
As if in it’s own private argument

The calm waters of the lake, It does deplore
It fights itself. Twisting. Turning. At war.

Those brave enough to enter, to tread in It’s waves
Are soon gasping, struggling, the grip of their graves

They thought the river would control it’s rage
That If they entered the rapids, it would disengage

The river is wild though, and has no control
The source of the river is a deep black hole

From there, the rapids gush with ferocious speed
Whoever is touched by it’s ¬†power…will concede