Across
the River Styx
Misty
mornings, coming to,
subconscious
world on a ridge,
forest
dead where once it grew,
above
a rickety bridge.
The
road ahead, where life must go,
through
mists of truthful meaning,
a
meeting place of life and death,
where
the bridge of Styx is leaning.
Treading
narrow paths of vision,
over
raging rivers of before,
one
missed step could spell your end,
and
plunge you through the door.
To
a meeting place where essence churns,
and
truth may be revealed,
into
the waters where memories burn,
and
the ego is unconcealed.
--------------------------
No comments:
Post a Comment