Monday, 12 December 2011

The River

The River

Life, cars, buses, streets
shout on in random beats
swifting, swirling, always now -
questions shudder, always how

it is that years from now
babies will cry and wolves still howl,
still be allowed, as graves fill up
quietly, still, the ground pushed up.

But moments come and moments go,
Life kickstarts and feelings grow,
Rights see light and fly away,
People still love as they begin to sway.

But on it runs
around the sun
and heaven still calls
even while to hell we fall,
and the Styx flows and stalls.

by Fraser Miller