Walking Down A Concave Path

I have found myself between a river and the desert—

Opposites never conjoin, but with distance,

They blur together.

 

The river flows consciously

Around each rock’s specific design,

And the shore is lush with leaves—

An echo lives on from tree to tree.

Beautiful, nevertheless,

But a lifetime afloat will make my hips restless.

 

The desert is bare, with just enough water to drink—

The sand warms my hands, but leaves my feet blistering.

My legs limp only towards perpetual sandstorms

For the sand will eat me if I am not conquering.

 

I crave the silky stream that

Can be disturbed by my hand—

Just as I live for the mirage

Of an Egyptian castle I’ve envisioned

In the sand.

 

Yet,

As I walk down the concave and grayed line,

The edges of my skin feel distant—

There are no visions I thirst for,

And the water looks inconsistent.

 

I have found myself between a river and the desert—

Opposites never conjoin, but with distance,

They blur together.

 

Photo Credit: Pathway To Hope

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