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Source
by Richard VinceThe stones glisten
As the sunlight filters through the leaves
And the cool, clear water trickles
With a positive downwardness
The journey is long and arduous
There is no home, for there is no stillness
Yet the warmth of homeliness pervades
Like walking with a close companion
You could be my eternity, they say
You could be my constant change
Reminding me that an end is not an end
Without a beginning
And rebirth must follow death
In the secrecy of the mountainside they speak
Sharing their inanimate dreams
And forgotten memories. 09/13/2000 Posted on 12/05/2004
Copyright © 2025 Richard Vince
| Member Comments on this Poem |
| Posted by Rula Shin on 12/07/04 at 05:11 PM "In the secrecy of the mountainside they speak
Sharing their inanimate dreams And forgotten memories" - very interesting piece, speaking of forgotten memories especially captures me. For how does one speak of that which he can't remember...and what is the "source"? Indeed, I too wonder about the rocks, what are their innanimate dreams? Can they appreciate too the cycle of end and beginning...can they reason amongst themselves about the SOURCE? I don't know, I guess i'm babbling, but it brings up some interesting points. Nice poem :-)
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| Posted by Tom Goss on 12/07/04 at 08:55 PM Pleasantly drifts along a well-defined path, turning words into cool, crisp H2O. |
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