Old river (Poem)

There was a time
when I could
cut land,
amend stones,
flow over
the mountains.
And no fish ever dared
to catch my speed.

I was never still
always twisting
and turning the
earth’s crust,
cities and civilizations.

Swimmers were cautious
of my flow and gust.
The hills and valleys
sang songs of my glory.
And many tributaries
were eager to join my conquest.

Now the time has flown by.

I’m wrinkled.
I’ve grown muddy.
Brothers left me away.
All the treasures departing
for the younger ones.
Resting at the mercy of land.
And the ocean is calling me
for a silent death,
as I was called a bad omen.

But I’m firm and still now.
Nothing to prove.
Ready to start
a 2.0.
A new sail
into the salty waters
with a locked heart
and cold thoughts,
Taking off to meet
The colourful corals.

(Life cycle)

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