The River
 
They all go by a different name
It’s the riverbed that ever stays the same
Water forever seeks a lower level
As it dresses up to dance with the devil
 
Its voyage starts from high at the summit
Down to the sea so far to plummet
It twists and turns through a sleepless night
Like savages performing a frenzied rite
 
It is powerful in its steepened falling
It is weak in its quiet stalling
When it finds it has no place to run to
It’s like a lamb coming home to brood
 
If I were to follow its many different flowings
Names would change through all their showings
Some would be peaceful and some to be agitated
Like an unruly child that needs to be berated
 
Rivers are like a shifting complex mind
Never peaceful enough to be called calm
Never turbulent enough to be called wild
What name would be the rightful one for it?

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