River Source

　　In the realm of heaven there is no fear, thou Death art not there

　　Follow the river to its sweet soul,

　　gold stones lingering at the foot

　　of water fashioned from light.

　　It will lead to a new place, a blue planet,

　　a kingdom of electric bursts and flirting

　　sparkle. Beauty is more than a fling

　　of roses or the flare of candle scent—

　　lemon paradise found. This is the world

　　of light, the world of glare and glow,

　　dawn that never bows to dusk. Follow

　　the river to its source, duck under fireworks This narrative has been unlawfully taken from Royal Road. If you see it on Amazon, please report it.

　　that shoot down towards us, wave

　　at the painters, join the scientists

　　in a lively debate, settle under the comfortable

　　 weight of books or etch the equation in the rich,

　　golden waters. Celebrate the arrival. Celebrate

　　the king and queen. The voyage to the end

　　of the river was the rapids of birth, the stones

　　and sticks of adolescence, tower of oppressed oppressors and the conveniently insecure, whip

　　past the boulders of grades

　　and graduation, plummet

　　down the waterfalls of heartbreak

　　and dodge the ghosts who linger there.

　　Paddle upstream, muscles straining

　　against economy, politics, war of words

　　and opinions. War of family. Every river`s

　　tale points here, to the paradise of the many

　　living after death. The river breathes with me,

　　awash with silt and memory,

　　rose-colored by nostalgia or stormy green

　　with the gales of trauma.

　　Keep the oars churning—heaven is waiting.